Cynical World
by Dyslexic Angel
Summary: How much trouble can one entry make in a highschool art contest? plenty. AU, SoRiku, shonenai
1. Here we stand

Sora's PoV

My paint brush flicked silently across the paper, adding details to the scene on the canvas. A boy knelt against a wall, hands chained to a wall on either side of his head. Shadows twined around his body, clearly binding him further. Silver hair fell to his shoulders, over his face, but didn't hide either the fire in his green eyes or the smear of blood on one high cheekbone. It was by far the most detailed thing I had ever painted. It was going to be my entry for an art contest my school was running.

What I liked best about the contest was that I was not required to give my real name. I could paint people as I saw them, without having to explain my views to annoying busy-bodies. I flicked a last highlight on the metal of the boys necklace; a battered metal heart dangling from a black leather choker. Quickly, I signed it with a metallic silver pen. Not my real name- Sora- but a penname I used online. ShadowSky. It sounds a little strange, but I picked it largely because it wasn't in use. The paint was dry. I unclipped the canvas and put it in the bag I had brought, padded for protection. Now all I needed to do was put it in the contest box without being seen. I headed towards the office, trying to think of a way to distract Miss Hesell. As it turned out, I didn't need to. She was out getting a cup of coffee, so I just added the painting to the pile of canvasses.

I didn't mind much if people knew I painted; I just didn't want to be teased into next year for painting one of my fellow school losers that way. Riku really does strike me like I painted him though; brave and beautiful, but bound by shadows and lies and his own defenses. I think he must be as lonely as I am. Beauty in no way insures popularity, and he tends to keep to himself. It took me a while to come to terms with my crush on him. It's not every day a guy figures out he's got a crush on the hottest _guy_ in the school. However, if nobody knew who had done the painting, no one would know who to bother. The info sheet glued to the back of the painting had only my pen name and an e-mail address. That way maybe people would see how wonderful—and how lonely—Riku really was, without getting distracted by me. I thought it was a foolproof plan. But fools are so terribly ingenious…

Riku's PoV

Huh. So _this_ was why people kept staring at me. I glared at the painting for a moment, but I wasn't really that annoyed. Just puzzled. Who would want to paint me, and why? And why in such a position? And how the _HELL_ had it taken first place! I couldn't figure it out. The info sheet hanging below it gave only what was obviously a pen name, and an e-mail address. ShadowSky, why did that sound familiar? Still, an e-mail address was something. Maybe if I emailed her, I could find out who she was. It never occurred to me that the artist might be a guy; guys didn't enter pictures of other guys in high school art contests, even anonymously. People kept laughing and pointing at me all afternoon. I kept ignoring them, like always, with the mask of coolness I've been perfecting for years.

When I got home after school, I headed strait for my room, and the computer, I logged into my email with a welcoming chime, and began to compose a message. Quickly, I sent it before I could change my mind, then pulled up a browser to web surf a little. I spent several minutes admiring pictures of the new Mathew's Compound, a sweet little bow with a draw weight of up to sixty pounds, but something tugged at the back of my mind, a half memory. On a hunch I ran a Google search on ShadowSky, and found what I was looking for. A reference in the blog of a web comic I read, recommending Shadow Sky's art, with a link to a website. I clicked the link, and was rewarded with a fairly simple page, though clearly belonging to an artist. Half the page was taken up by what was essentially a live journal, the other half with thumbnails and brief descriptions of the pieces. I read through the latest entry, a bit surprised by the darkness and maturity of the writing. What really shocked me though, was the art on the page market 'archive', in particular, a piece called doppelganger.

_ I don't normally do self-portraits, but this picture just came to me. I'd been reading a ghost story, and was starting to creep myself out._ The blurb read. The picture was of a brown-haired boy standing before a mirror in a t-shirt and jeans, looking at the two reflections there. One was the boy, by his clothes, chocolate colored spikes falling into impossibly innocent blue eyes. Looking over his shoulder was a slightly taller copy of the boy, but wearing a black fishnet tank top and a black leather collar with a metal ring bent into an asymmetrical heart hanging from it. There was nothing innocent about him; he was grinning, showing vampire fangs. I was unnerved—which one was the artist? The innocent boy seemed familiar, and when I realized who it was, I nearly fell out of my chair. One of the guys from school, the guy everybody knew and nobody knew well. Sora. The Sora I knew was definitely the first boy. But all of the art here was much darker, harsher than he seemed even capable of. It looked like there was more to him then met the eye. My computer chimed again, telling me I had mail. I clicked back to my inbox to find a reply from Sora.

_ I don't talk to pranksters. Bother someone else._

I frowned. He didn't think I was me? Maybe if I kept trying, he'd give in and answer me. I typed another note, using his name. After that, I clicked the window down and played Insaniquarium until it chimed again. Another one-liner, but one that gave me plenty of food for thought.

_ I paint what I see._

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. Finally, hesitantly, I sent back a message of my own. Just two words.

Sora's PoV

I had gone strait home after school. I had never thought that the painting would generate that much fuss. I mean, who pays attention to a high school art contest? I had been home about fifteen minutes when my computer chirped to announce an incoming email. I tossed my book down on the bed and climbed over the debris on my floor to my computer desk. Opening my inbox I found two new messages. One was from my cousin in Waterchester. The other was from someone I didn't recognize-- I clicked the second one open.

_ Why me? Why like that? Who _are_ you?_

_ Riku_

I knew exactly what he meant. I clicked reply and stared at the message blankly. Then it dawned on me. This was probably a prank! Someone who recognized Riku must have guessed I might talk to him. I typed back one of my trademark one-liners. I felt that anything that couldn't be said in one line ought to be said face to face. I brought up the message from my cousin and read through it, and I was about to kill the window when it chirped with another message. Lostinthedark again. Boy was he lost. I clicked it open.

_ I'm not a prankster. I just want to know why you painted me like that without even telling me. Is that so much to ask, Sora?_

_ Riku_

The last sentence made my breath catch in my throat. If they knew who I was, I would never hear the end of it. If I answered no, though, it might keep them from confronting me at school. This way I could at least keep my dignity. I typed back another message. Just one line, but for some reason, I felt compelled to tell the truth. Or at least part of it. _I paint what I see._ A truth of sorts. I clicked send and stared blankly at the screen for a long moment, trying to figure out where I had slipped up. I shook my head, and dismissed the question. It didn't matter. I had my mouse poised over the X when my computer chirped a third time. I had the message open before I stopped to think. An answer from Lostinthedark; just one word. I blinked. _Thank you._ ? That was it. I slammed the lid down on the laptop, and pulled a red box off one shelf. I really needed some pocky.

The next morning, I dressed to intimidate. Most people at school liked me well enough; but I was no one's special friend, and my schoolmates will turn on someone like a mob of piranha fish if they start enough gossip. I wore a long-sleeved black shirt, loose cut and a tad large, over baggy black pants covered in extra loops and buckles. Around my neck I fastened a collar, made of heavy black leather with a bent metal heart pendant. It felt comfortable around my neck; it had showed up in several of my paintings. Running my fingers through my hair, I looked in the mirror and grinned. Vampire Sora. Perfect.

Thanks for reading my first fanfic. Please review, as I won't really bother to update if I don't think anyone is reading it. (I like writing it, but typing it up is annoying)

Thank you again,

Dyslexic Angel


	2. In ravishing rain

Sora's PoV

I walked to school quickly, and got there nearly ten minutes before first hour bell. Not so good; Plenty of time for an interrogation. I wasn't too worried though. I knew dozens of ways to avoid people, right down to the time I ate lunch on the roof of the gym to avoid some guy who thought I'd been trying to pick up his girl. I wouldn't need anything that extreme today, though. I hoped.

I slipped into the library, and sat down at a table in the back, near poetry. There were walls on two sides, and shelves on a third, hiding it from the door. I was effectively hidden from most of the room; someone would have to be practically on top of me to find me if I was quiet. I pulled out my sketchbook and a charcoal pencil from my backpack. I had plenty of time until my first class; students at our school choose one free hour, supposedly for lunch, but I had picked first period.

It wasn't until the beginning-of-class bell rang that I noticed what it was I had been drawing. It was a rather smudgy sketch of myself, perched in a tree growing out of the ocean, which swarmed with piranha fish. I snickered. The sound was very loud in the now empty library, and that alone made me relax. This was why I picked a first period free hour. I wasn't the only one who did, but most of the others who had it used the time to sleep late. I loved the library in the early morning, silent except for the turning of pages, with warm golden light streaming in through the small window into my corner. I was startled out of my calm when light footsteps sounded behind one "wall" of my sanctuary.

I think if I hadn't already been resting my chin in my hand, my jaw would have dropped when Riku rounded the corner. I quickly looked back at my book, turned a page, and began sketching quickly. I knew what I was doing, and I think he knew it too. I was doing everything I could think of to avoid meeting his eyes. While I drew, I tried beaming a telepathic message at him; _go away, you feel like leaving me alone. I have enough problems today._

"Hey." He said sitting down. Damn. This was not my day. I looked up, briefly. What I saw in his face was relaxing; no anger or disgust, only kindness and a respect that surprised me a bit. I found myself smiling back, just a bit. He broke the silence. "What did you mean, yesterday, 'as you see'?" He asked. I looked at him, startlement surely scrawled across my features.

"You mean that was you?" I asked, before I could bite the question back. Then I caught my tongue between my teeth, trying not to sound like even more of an idiot.

"Why wouldn't it be?" he asked, as though it were obvious. Then he waved a hand, dismissing the subject. "You painted me in chains." He prompted a many emotions in his voice. Anger, pride, a trace of hurt…. Why did I hear longing? "Why?" he demanded. I parried immediately.

"Why what?" I asked, unrepentant, challenging. I was stalling, and we both knew it, but oddly enough, he seemed disinclined to press the issue. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, and the motion caught my eye for a moment, silver silk over golden skin… I banished the thought fiercely.

"Why didn't you sign your name?" He asked, all previous emotion banished from his voice by a will stronger than mine, and I knew my own 'calm' was a killing rage by comparison.

"Why do you care?" I challenged, damning myself for the childish hurt that slipped through. His own words were as cool as before.

"I want to understand." Though the words lacked emotion, there was a determination in them that I found myself respecting. That, however, did not show in my voice when I retorted.

"What kind of strait guy paints in the art contest? Let alone other hot guys?" Riku only gazed calmly at me, though I think the corner of his mouth twitched at the complement.

"Obviously one does." He replied no humor in his voice, but a suspicious glint in his emerald eyes. I couldn't quite restrain an answering chuckle.

"About as strait as a hula-hoop." I muttered, and I don't think he heard me, because he just looked at me, even confusion beautiful on his angelic features. I answered him with a smile, slightly bitter and wholly ironic. If he hadn't heard me, _I_ sure as hell wasn't going to repeat it.

Riku's PoV

E-mail had cleared up a lot of things, (I guessed) but I still wanted to talk to Sora in person. I finally found him during first period, in a small niche in between two bookcases in the back of the library. Normally, I would be sleeping; I had first hour lunch, same as Sora. I spoke with him briefly, and got no answers, but he seemed edgy. He reminded me of a rabbit cornered by a hawk: trapped. His last comment startled me, though. I wasn't shocked- just a bit surprised that he would state it so boldly. I just looked at him, not sure how to respond, while he smiled, ironic and as weary as I have ever seen anyone. Then he went back to sketching and I pulled out my homework. It could have waited till fourth hour; both Sora and I have Mr. Decasmo, whose class is effectively a study hall. He gives homework almost every night, but it never matters if you listen to his lectures or not. However, I wanted to stay with Sora, and I felt I needed an excuse. I had meant what I said; I really did want to understand, not just the painting, but the artist. Neither of us spoke for the rest of the hour. But when I rose to leave, he raised one hand in a tentative wave. I waved back, and as we parted ways for second hour classes, I looked at him, watching until the crowd blocked my view. The really odd thing, Is I saw him do the same, out of the corner of his eye. Around fourth hour, I noticed a couple of people giggling and pointing. That wouldn't even have been worth noting if they had been pointing at me; but they were looking at the front of the room, and I sit in the back. I followed one of the fingers with my eyes to where Sora sat, head bent over his sketchbook, completely ignoring everyone. Sudden realization hit me and I choked back a curse. I apparently wasn't the only one who had found out ShadowSky's identity. The second realization pushed the first right out of my mind for a moment. He looked stunning today, and much older. I hadn't realized before because my eyes had been on his face, but he was dressed much like vampire Sora—different shirt, but the choker and pants were the same. A loose black long sleeve shirt made his skin look lighter, and his hair almost red, and his eyes glowed blue in his face. He looked _delicious._ That was where I firmly yanked my mind out of a downward slide into the gutter. I blushed; glad, for once, of my seat in the back of the room, where no one could see me. I didn't swing that way….did I? More immediate problems reclaimed my attention. The teacher continued to drone on, oblivious, while one of the boys spoke to Sora. I was too far away to make out words, but the tone was clearly nasty. Sora replied cheerfully enough, though, and then finished with his trademark grin. I wondered if I was the only one who noticed the bitterness laced through his 'cheer'. Then the real trouble started; Mr. Decasmo left the room, and a second bully joined the first. He snatched up the sketchbook and looked at whatever Sora had been drawing, then laughed, cruelly/ before I realized it I was out of my seat, barely restraining myself from hitting the boy. I snatched the sketchbook and flicked a glance over the pages, recognizing the beginning of a pencil sketch of me. Persuading myself that violence was not the best answer with odds four to one against me, (the bullies' friends had shown up) I pretended to be scornful. I looked at the bully as though he were a _complete_ moron.

"Why are you wasting your time?" I asked dismissively, carefully not looking at Sora.

The older boy replied, "Loser thinks he's an artist. Thinks he's better than us." I laughed, derisively, lapsing into the cadence of someone for whom English is only one of the languages they speak.

"Just because some punk kid thinks it, doesn't make it true." I said. Now I was _really_ not looking at Sora. The bullies grumbled for a moment, then stalked back to their corner, probably to insult the "fags" some more. Now I dared to look at Sora. He had a smile on his face that chilled my blood and made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

"I'm going to kill you." Sora declared, calmly, still smiling. I beat a hasty retreat. I looked for Sora again at lunch, but it was only after I gave up that I found him. By now the rumors had really started to circulate, and between the people shouting taunts and the people camping in my favorite hiding spots, I was getting fairly desperate for place to hide. In the end I climbed up on the gym roof. There was a depression in the middle that hid people quite nicely, and the rain gutter on one side of the building was pretty climbable. I didn't, however, expect anyone else to be there. Sora was sitting in the middle of the depression, calmly eating lunch.

"Uh… mind if I join you?" I asked, a tad shyly. Sora glared at me for a moment, then went back to the book he was reading. I took this for assent and sat down. About halfway through my lunch, I paused, watching him. Did he have any notion of how striking he was? His tousled hair was just a shade darker than fresh cinnamon, and his eyes glittered like fire-polished glass. I realized something then that I wasn't sure I wanted to know. I was attracted to him. I searched my feelings on that, and found them decidedly mixed. On the one hand, I was definitely uneasy about thinking about another guy like that. But on the other hand, I really liked the feeling. That in itself worried me a bit. I forced it from my mind. It didn't matter; nothing would ever happen between us. Despite his jokes to the contrary, I was certain Sora was strait. Unlike myself, it appeared. The thought made me smile slightly. I'd never been normal before--- why should I start now? I pushed the thought away, but not before it brought me full circle. What was I, then? Resolutely, I forced the thought from my mind, but it kept circling back, like a broken c.d. player that only plays one song. Finally I gave up, and just lost myself in memorizing Sora as he looked today. If he found out the way my thoughts were straying, it might be my last good look for a long time.

Again, thanks for reading. Reviews would be very nice. The next chapter will probably not get posted until I get at least one review. Did I mention I really like reviews? I would like to know I'm not talking to ghosts.

This chapter and the next were origionally written as one, but I decided it was I bit long, so I split it and wrote some extra in. Sorry it's so short; the next one is longer.

Review!

Dyslexic Angel


	3. Joy is like pain

Sora's PoV

He's staring at me. I can feel him staring at me. What really worries me is how used to it I'm getting. Then he started smiling. That was even worse, because it made _me_ want to smile. And people do not smile when they are pretending to read _Hamlet_. That was it. I grabbed my stuff and slid down the drainpipe, receiving an odd look from Riku, sad with a trace of hurt at the bottom. I hit the ground and started walking towards the library. I felt restless, unable to remain still. I hoped that the hordes of curious people had gotten bored; but somehow, that would be too good to be true. I made it fifty feet before I was accosted by Kairi.

"Sora, did you paint that thing in the art show?" I considered several responses, and selected one in a breath. The Sora secret clowning technique. I smiled at her like a complete goof, with an inward grimace.

"Kairi, you've _seen_ my handwriting. With coordination like that, how could I possibly draw?" I answered her with a misleading mixture of truths. She giggled, a tad nervously, I thought.

"You're so silly, Sora…" She laughed again and walked away. I dropped the sickening grin off my face and sagged against the wall for a moment, running my hand through my hair. I hated playing the fool, but it was the only way to keep people away. I've never liked people; too many of them scare me. But nobody pays attention to a fool.

Quiet footsteps were the first warning I had as people surrounded me, and I abandoned my musings in favor of survival. The four boys from earlier ringed me on three sides, with the wall at my back both hindrance and guard. They had me completely caged in.

"Hey, fag." The leader, a boy named Rigel, greeted me. I pretended not to catch the insult and chirped back a cheery greeting of my own. I only needed to distract them for a moment… my sword was in the sports bag at my side, and wood or not, it would give me the edge that would be the difference between safety and a beating. I had one hand on the zipper when the first blow fell, a high punch that caught me on one cheekbone and stunned me for a moment. When my eyes cleared, Rigel had a knife out, a wicked looking thing as long as my hand, and clearly sharp. He never had time to use it; a moment later, I had my sword out. I flicked the tip under the hand guard of his blade and sent it flying. My second stroke changed direction and took Rigel in the temple. He went down like a stone. I settled into guard stance, eyeing the other three warily, all pretense of foolishness only a memory. They didn't even bother to try, only bolted like scared rabbits. I relaxed from my ready stance, and slid the sword through a loop in one of the chain belts. I saw I flick of motion out of one corner of my eyes and whirled, only to get a glimpse of someone walking off. I sighed, and ran a hand through my hair again. This was going to be trouble when the story got around. I didn't bother to repack my sword in my bag, just wore it thrust through the loop in my belt for the rest of the day. All afternoon, I kept catching people staring at me. I gave them a grin that was only half-feigned--- until one of them flinched. That killed the last trace of combat exhilaration, and left me feeling oddly calm. Nobody spoke to me until seventh hour, though I felt eyes on me more than once. I met Riku in the doorway, and we took seats next to each other, with no words spoken.

"I'm sorry about earlier." Riku said, and I took a minute to place what he meant. Oh, that mess in English? I nearly laughed. He thought I was still mad about that?

"It's ok. But I could have handled it myself." I said, with a grin to take the sting from my words. He chuckled.

"There are some pretty distorted rumors going around, though. They have me as everything from your arch-enemy to your lover, and you as everything from a quiet, refined art student to a wild ex-street fighter." I laughed myself at that, but there was a bit of nervousness in it. How many people remembered me running with Alex? Riku apparently noticed the nervousness; he pegged me with a sharp look.

"What's wrong?" He inquired curiosity and worry still laced through with a touch of good humor.

"Neither rumor is entirely wrong." I replied.

"You, ex-street-fighter?" he asked, "this I have to hear." He settled himself down in a listening position, elbows on the desk, chin in his hands. I took a deep breath and brushed loose hairs out of my eyes.

"Well, it really began when dad and I first moved here." I started the story, trying to figure out how to word it. "He didn't have much money back then, so we were living in kind of a rough part of town. I had just turned twelve, and was going to a public school. That's where I met Alex. His real name was Alexander, but everyone called him Alexiel, the angel of death. He was barely six months older than me, but he was already five-seven, and he had the most amazing knack for inspiring loyalty. There were fourteen people in his gang, and any one of them would have died for him. Myself included. He was more than just a fighter, though. He was an artist. Graffiti, yeh, but his wasn't crude or anything. He did paintings. Some of them were so beautiful that even the people who owned the property didn't paint over them. A few were so stunning even other taggers left them alone. When I first showed up, I was new, naive, and short for my age. Alex took me under his wing; by the end of seventh grade, I would gladly have died for him. I helped, too, when he was going painting. I was small and stealthy, and I could run really fast, so I was lookout. Then in eighth grade, dad got a new job and started making enough we could live somewhere nicer. We moved, all the way across town, but I still see Alex occasionally. He's gotten out of gangs, got a spot at one of the Schools for the arts, and a scholarship lined up for college." The teacher began the class then, so Riku and I shut up and paid attention. I didn't get a chance to talk to him again at school, but he looked very thoughtful.

I didn't get much done in art; I was too busy thinking about what I had told Riku. I had left a lot out. Alex and I hadn't only been friends, we'd been boyfriends. We'd never done anything beyond a few kisses, but I'd been the one he counted on to be there for him, just like I had counted on him. I'd found the art school for him, and helped him put together an entry, after he'd taken a gunshot wound in the leg. We'd both had our share of damage; I still had the scar where I'd struck away a knife by the blade; it might well have killed him if it had gotten through. He'd take a knife in the shoulder, knocking me out of the way. I'd been the only one who called him Alex. To everyone else, he was the Angel of Death, and that kind of informality was unthinkable. The last bell rang, and I headed off for my sword lesson, still musing.

When I got home after my sword lesson, I was covered in sweat, aching in every muscle, and my grin was not at all fake. Exercise is an excellent cure for thinking too much. I showered quickly, and dressed again in the rich, dark shades of red and blue I favored. Almost the first thing I did was open up my inbox, scanning for messages from a particular person. Finding what I was looking for, I clicked it open.

_Hey Sora. Heard you beat up Rigel today. Why'd you waste your time?_

_Riku_.

I grinned. It was good to have friends. From there, we got into a long IM conversation, and I learned more about Riku than I suspected anyone but his own mother knew. We had a lot in common. We both mostly lived with a single parent; his dad had died about two years ago, and my parents were divorced, with my mom in California. Neither off us liked rap music, though he listened to an amazing range of things. I mostly preferred the old folk tapes my mother had given me for my last birthday, but he listened to everything from Bache to Melissa Etherige. We talked for nearly two hours, until his mother kicked him off for dinner, and I went to bed that night, happy with the knowledge that I finally had a real friend.

Ok, I lied. This one is actually shorter than the other. Just as a note, Kairi is not a bitch in this fic. She has the best of intentions when she causes trouble between Sora and Riku. I got a review! That alone was justification for me to sacrifice an hour or so of sleep to type up this chapter. Arigatou!

Dyslexic Angel


	4. It feels like a miricle

AN: this means they're speaking French.

Sora's PoV

I met Riku at the entrance to the school; he had been waiting, and fell into step with me as though we'd done it a thousand times. Riku spoke first.

"You seem to have traded a reputation as a fool for one as a paranoid schizophrenic." He teased. I chuckled.

"Suits." He looked at me oddly, so I elaborated, "Either way, it will keep people from talking to me. And being treated like a fool--- while having to act like one--- gets very frustrating." My words were hardly light, but my smile was real. Riku just made everything a little bit happier. We were both silent for a moment while I pondered the truth of my words to Riku. No, I decided, I didn't care what faceless people thought. Riku knew me, but most people would probably avoid me. I liked that idea. I have never dealt well with people. I don't really feel comfortable with being the center of attention, either, but so long as I was left alone, with Riku, I didn't really mind. I blushed slightly at my own thoughts. Alone with Riku… Bad Sora! Meanwhile, Riku and I had reached my lair in the library. We both sat down just as the first bell rand. I pulled out my sketchbook and began working on a piece I'd done the pencil for yesterday. Today I pulled out a black pen and some Bristol board. It was another drawing of Riku, standing in the choir loft of the abandoned church near my old house. In the back was a stained glass window, life sized, of an angel facing the alter. Riku stood before it, completely hiding the original angel, so that he appeared to have wings and a halo of glowing glass. I quickly transferred the sketch to the piece of Bristol and began to ink. I used thick, rough lines to outline Riku and the pieces of glass, and much finer lines for the shadows of broken benches, and the ghost of an organ in one corner. Soon the ink was dry and I erased the pencil marks. Then I grabbed my markers out of the sports bag that still had my wooden sword. I didn't have a lesson today, but I doubted Rigel would let me go unchallenged, and the sword was an edge to make up for my lack of comrades. I looked up to see Riku watching me in mute fascination.

"How do you _do_ that?" He asked, pointing at the drawing. I shrugged; the question was not new.

"Practice, I guess." I opened the marker bag and selected a light gray. "I've always been an art person, though." I glanced up from shading the glass to see Riku looking at me inquisitively. I elaborated. "Mom still has a photo of the time when I used everything on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator to paint a sunset on the kitchen floor." He laughed out right at that.

"How old were you?" He asked, amusement lending his voice a surprising richness.

"About four. After that she bought me some nice crayons and a pad of paper instead." I chuckled slightly. "The look on her face when I filled the entire pad in under a month was priceless." He smiled himself.

"I could see you doing that. You never seem to have the same sketchbook week to week, and the amount of stuff on your website is astounding."

"Yeh." I turned my head and stared at my drawing for a moment. Blue, maybe… "Most of the money I get from my contributions jar goes towards art supplies. If I hadn't found a line of cheap sketchbooks I liked though, I'd have been really sunk." He looked at me a bit oddly.

"Contributions jar?" I looked at him in surprise. He had seen my website…

"Uh-huh. It's on the page with the web comic I do with my cousin. Didn't you see it on my website?" He flushed slightly pink.

"I didn't look at it that much. You e-mailed me back, and then I kinda forgot about it."

"Oh." I sighed, and leaned back in the chair. The colors just weren't coming… Riku glanced at the drawing again.

"Sora?" he asked, "Why did you color the background and not me?" I sighed again, and ran a hand through my hair, but my answer was truthful.

"I'm not sure what the colors should be. Whenever I see this picture in my head, I see you in black and white except for the reflected color from the glass." Riku looked at me calmly for a moment, then answered as though it were obvious,

"So paint it that way." As simple as that. I thought about it for a moment. Not completely black and white, but if the only color was his eyes… yes. That would work. The bell signaled the end of first hour, and I packed up my stuff hurriedly. Then Riku noticed the sports bag. "I thought your lesson was on Monday?"

"It is," I replied, "Monday and Wednesday, but this came in handy yesterday. I take it the rumor didn't mention four-to-one odds?" He whistled, and shook his head, making his silver hair fan out in a halo around his head. My angel… I firmly banished those thoughts. It wasn't worth the risk. Telling him how I felt would only scare him off, or worse, make him hate me. I couldn't risk our friendship. My thoughts turned darker as I headed off to Science. I kept one hand on my bag, but I didn't bother to smile. What use is it to act like a fool, when everyone knew how much damage I could do? After years of constant smiling, whether I felt happy or not, it felt strange to wear my feelings on my face. I wore all black again, with the same choker a comforting weight around my neck. Alex had given it to me, years ago; there were a number of hinged metal plates sewn into the leather, guarding the soft parts of my throat and neck. I knew I was being paranoid. However, I have always been a devout believer in a line Alex quoted to me, when we first met. "Just because you think an enemy is behind every bush, it does not follow that you are always wrong."

Science was creepy, with people flinching away every time my gaze met theirs. And I met many pairs of eyes, caught staring in a bitter mixture of curiosity and fear. By fourth hour, I had worked myself into a black depression. I think my scowl may have been the only thing that saved me from questioning--- several times people approached me, only to back away when I glared at them. Riku worked silently in the back of the room. Several times I thought about going to him, but each time I rejected the idea. He would not want my company today. Even the sight of him trying to climb the drain pipe to the gym roof, (and sliding six inches for every twelve he climbed) failed to lighten my mood.

"Hey!" he called, clambering over to the depression with cat-like grace. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, this time sounding worried, and so gentle I almost burst into tears right there. I hid them with a grin, sickening and false.

"I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be fine? I've never been better!" The words were cheerful, and tasted like poisoned honey on my tongue, sugar not quite masking the bitterness. He quirked one eyebrow and looked at me, anger and disgust fighting humor for command of his features.

"Soooraaa…" it was amazing how he managed to sound both worried and annoyed in the same breath. My smile dropped of like a broken mask. "What's wrong?" I bit my lip as my eyes stung. Rage or malice would have been easier to bear. His kindness was like fire, melting frozen loneliness in favor of an equally terrible burning. I shook my head and looked down, unwilling--- unable--- to answer. He heaved a sigh. "All right then…" He then proceeded to tell the three _dirtiest_ jokes I had ever heard. Completely deadpan. By the third I was laughing so hard I was doubled over. It wasn't the jokes themselves, but the sheer incongruity of _Riku_ telling them… a trace of the earlier pain still burned in the backs of my eyes, but it seemed less terrible now. Riku cast an assessing eye over my face. Apparently what he saw there satisfied him, as he sat down calmly and ate his lunch, no trace of any feeling other than quiet optimism on his face.

I still didn't feel like talking, so I pulled out my sketchbook and began a pencil drawing of him, how he looked in the morning sun. Often, when I drew him, he looked too still, frozen, but this one was one of my best. He seemed alive with a gentle radiance and infectious good cheer. I finished the sketch and looked up, to find him staring at me. It annoyed me a bit how much he looked at me. However, right now, he was clearly elsewhere, judging from his glazed expression and slightly open mouth. I took advantage of his mind's vacation to admire him for a moment. He shook his head, suddenly, and brought his eyes back into focus. I pretended to look dubious.

"Are you alright?" I asked, mock-solemn, "I think you were drooling." To my amazement, he choked, and blushed a shade of red so bright it looked painful. Now I _really_ wanted to know what he'd been thinking.

Riku's PoV

I found people staking out the spot in the library, so I climbed up to the roof to find Sora already up there. He looked grim, and completely ignored my greeting. I had gotten used to Sora's darker moods, but today he looked like he was about to jump off the roof or something. So I tried something I rather thought would make him smile. I cracked three filthy jokes in a row, without changing my expression a hair. It was the same trick I'd always used to cheer my brother up, before he'd left for college; I knew more dirty jokes than anyone I knew of, for precisely that purpose. It worked on Sora, too—by the third one he was chuckling with real humor. A trace of sorrow lingered in the depths of his eyes, but the pain had gone out of his face. He still didn't seem to feel like talking, though, so I paid most of my attention to my food.

When I finished eating, I just admired him for a long moment. He didn't notice. He had commented earlier, only half jokingly, that he wouldn't notice a bomb going off when he was drawing, unless it dumped debris on his paper or broke his light source.

The sun was warm, and I could feel myself growing sleepy. Sora's hands were so pale, I had no doubt they would be cool on my skin… something didn't seem right about that thought, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Sora's eyes were lovely, blue, but the sky was never so wonderful. And his lips… my mind took a brief romp through the gutter. Gradually, the feeling of wrongness increased, dispelling the day dream. I shook my head. What had I been thinking about? The tone of my own thoughts now that I was awake seemed hopelessly sappy, like a fool in love. That thought caught in my mind, a fool in love. In love? I shook my head, hard, as though I could shake the thought out.

I looked up, to see Sora looking at me. His expression was dubious, but humor danced in his eyes, making them more beautiful than even the gems they resembled. His comment about drool made my cheeks feel like they had caught fire. I was sure I was blushing cherry red. Had I really been drooling? God, I was in trouble.

We both headed off to our afternoon classes, and I felt sorry for Sora. The gossip about me had been completely overwhelmed by news of his little fight, and many people came up to me to ask about Sora. Had he really beat up Rigel Barnes and eight cronies? Had he really used a _katana_? I had to smile at some of the rumors, they were so wild. The weirdest conversation I had though, was with Kairi. She wanted to know if Sora was alright.

I asked her, bluntly, "why do you care?" and she muttered something about having known him in grade school. We chatted for several minutes, me pumping her for information, her turning every question into a way to ask about Sora now. I didn't think she could have known him very well, but I got to know a bit about Sora I hadn't been before. I wasn't surprised she knew so little of him; he was so cheerful, so stupid, and so utterly _false_ with most people. And for some reason, or many reasons, no one but me ever seemed to have bothered to see through that mask. He had rarely used that mask in my presence—only when he was trying (and generally failing) to hide pain. Another realization followed that one, but I shied away from it, not ready to face it. It sunk back, but remained in the bottom of my mind, waiting to confront me when I couldn't contain it.

Seventh hour was one of the classes I shared with Sora. We talked a little, but too many people were paying attention to have a real conversation. Then I had an idea.

"Sora?"

"What?"

"How much French do you speak?"

"Uhh…. A fair bit. I had a couple years of it in California, and Alex and I used it for secrets." Secrets? I wondered. What kind of secrets had those two had? I felt a stab of something, not quite rage, with more than a trace of possessiveness. I shook the feeling off. Sora was his own, not mine or anyone's.

Most of the eavesdropper's haven't had more than a year of it, and I was _born_ in Canada. I answered the puzzlement in his expression. He laughed, softly.

Yes, that does solve the problem nicely. most of the people who had been listening to us were now looking gratifyingly puzzled. Sora and I talked for most of math class, largely about my years in a middle school in Montréal. He wanted to know how Canada was different from the Destiny Islands, and I wanted to hear about California. Then the bell rang and we packed up, but I paused near the door.

Do you really want to go to last hour? I asked, still in French. Sora looked puzzled for a moment, then he laughed.

Was that an invitation to _ditch_ from Mr. Good boy? he teased. He didn't know the word for skip, so he had used a noun meaning hole-probably-full-of-dirty-water. Nah, I'm a strictly off-the-books TA for the art teacher last hour. It's a lot of fun. Want to come over to my house after school instead? the invitation surprised me a bit. From what he'd said on IM yesterday, his father wasn't one to let him have friends over so casually.

"Love to, meet you at the gate?" He nodded, and we walked off in opposite directions. I dashed hurriedly to my next class; it was worth skipping if I had someone to skip with, but if Sora was being good, I might as well go to class. My last class was thankfully mundane, so I met Sora at the gate in a good mood. Walking to his house, we talked about little things, and laughed and joked like old buddies. I felt strangely at ease with Sora. When we talked, we talked, and we could talk about anything, but when we didn't, that was fine to. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Enough to make you believe in miracles.

That came out much longer than I expected… there may be some strange mistakes in this; it was mostly typed at one in the morning. This update was originally going to be tomorrow, but I couldn't sleep, so I typed the chapter instead. Thank you for all the kind reviews! They were all the inspiration I needed to finish writing chapter five. Sayonara!

Dyslexic Angel


	5. You can't turn back

Riku's PoV

Sora's house wasn't anything like what I expected. It was quite small, and a tad rundown-looking, with peeling white paint over peach stucco. We went in a dark wooden door in the back that opened onto a concrete-floored hallway with a washer and dryer and two doors at one end. Sora led me through the door on the right, down a short hallway to an apparent dead end. There he opened what looked like a closet door to reveal a ladder up to the second floor. He climbed it quickly, talking softly.

"the entire second story is mine, or all four rooms of it, but the first floor is my dad's. watch your step getting out, I haven't cleaned in--- shit, Alex, what happened to you!" the last, I saw as I climbed into the room, was directed at a tall man sprawled hapazardly across the couch. His long black hair was caked with mud, and he had the beginings of a _spectacular_ black eye, and blood was streaked randomly across his arms and chest, revealed by sharp slashes in his shirt. He looked like he'd come out the loser in a fight, but eyeing the wiry muscle that showed when he moved, I'd bet money the other guy looked worse.

"Hey Sora." The man, Alex I assumed, greeted him, "new boyfriend?" The last, I realized after a moment, was referring to me. I blushed, but Sora just laughed.

"as if. No, Riku doesn't swing that way." Sora answered, and I wondered for a moment at the other boy's _assumption_ that if Sora brought home another guy, it was a date. Sora ran his hand along the other boy's jaw and stopped at the chin, tilting Alex's face to get a better look at the black eye. Alex allowed the caress with gentleness in his eyes I suspected was rare indeed, raising a hand to take Sora's in his own. I blushed again at the sensuality in the gesture. They were acting like old lovers. I cleared my throat, softly. They both jumped.

"in the kitchen," Sora pointed to a door on the far wall, "there should be a blue plastic box marked 'first aid kit'. Grab it?" he asked. I only nodded, though he wasn't even looking at me. There was a hard lump in my throat, and I couldn't speak around it. I headed into the kitchen, but there voices drifted to follow me. I grabbed the blue box, and paused near the door, listening.

"How did you get in, anyway? You're in no shape to have used the window route." Sora's voice was soft and gentle, and so trusting it sounded like someone else speaking. I had never heard him so calm. Alex's chuckle was barely audible, low and sensuous. Then Sora's laugh joined his. I walked back into the room, wondering what was so funny, to find Alex holding a brass key on a black cord, looped about his throat.

"you still have that, huh?" Sora asked Alex, taking the box from me. "God, it seems like it's been years. Thanks for getting the kit, Riku." I just watched, feeling like a third wheel, while Sora gently bandaged Alexiel's arm.

"You planning to introduce me?" The older boy asked, nudging Sora. I thought I saw a faint tinge of pink in the younger boy's cheeks.

"Sorry. Alex, this is Riku." He glared at Alex. "get your mind out of the gutter, I told you it's not like that. Riku, his royal tactlessness here is Alexiel."

"Actually, I mostly go by 'Hawk' now." The other boy interjected.

"some day, you will have to tell me how that happened." Sora was smiling softly, the happiness in his eyes plain for all to read. I took a moment to size up 'Hawk'. He was several inches taller than me, making him barely taller than Sora. Strait, blue-black hair fell to his shoulder blades, cut to frame his face, and dusky golden skin, slightly ashy from fatigue. His eyes were his really striking feature, though. A frosty grey the color of a wolf's pelt, cold and hard when they turned on me. He was built fairly lightly, but only a fool would miss the quiet grace he moved with, or the wiry muscle hidden beneath an almost foppish exterior. It was clear why Sora respected him; I had expected him to be strong, but his beauty surprised me, sharp steel lightly masked with soft silk. The pang of emotion, wild and nameless, was just as surprising. It was like being pricked with a rose thorn all over.

"I should go home now," I told Sora, "See you at school tomorrow."

"I'll walk you out." He said, not even trying to detain me. I wished he would try. For some reason my chest didn't feel quite right and my eyes prickled suspiciously. When we got outside, the sky was nearly black with storm clouds, and the wind had picked up, whistling almost mournfully. I trudged home slowly, and the rain began when I was less than halfway home. I tilted my face up and let the rain fall on it, feeling my eyes burn and wondering, bitterly, why all the rain tasted ever so slightly like salt.

Sora's PoV

I had always loved the rain. It tapped patterns on the windows, and ran in streams down the glass. Alex's arms around my shoulders weren't bad, either. I leaned back against his chest.

"I missed you." I said. "it's been months." In fact, I hadn't seen him more than twice since we had broken up. He hugged me a little closer.

"I missed you too. I just wasn't sure you wanted to see _me_." He chuckled slightly, and his tone turned teasing. "besides, you seem to have found a replacement quick enough." I heard the rumbling of quiet laughter in his chest.

"I told you, it's not like that. Not that I don't wish it were." My tone was light, but the words were serious.

"impure thoughts count, imp." His voice grew more serious, and soft enough to be almost hard to hear. "we weren't really a good couple anyway. I think we're better off as friends." A year ago, this pronouncement would have had me in tears. Now I smiled.

"you found someone else, too?" I teased, and heard the smile in Alex's reply.

"yes." He replied, and then continued, in the voice he always used for quoting poetry. "Life is a long trek through bitter desert, spotted with thorns and harsh with rock, watered only by the sky's tears. We walk, always into the sun, while the wind erases out path behind our feet. We cannot go back." Then, more softly still in his own voice, "we can _never_ go back." My own reply was just as soft.

"no." I whispered, "we can't."

Ouch. I hadn't realized quite how short this one is. I like how it came out, but a bit more length would have been nice…. Thank you again for all your kind reviews, and who ever figures out what's special about the story/chapter titles gets a cookie. 

Sorry and Thanks,

Dyslexic Angel


	6. You're in chains

Riku's PoV

I slept badly that night, tossing and turning. The image of Sora kept haunting me. Sora, his eyes alight with pure, unalloyed joy, no trace of pain at the bottom… joy at seeing Alex. Emotions burned through me, nameless, overwhelming. Finally, I couldn't take it any more. I sought the one cure I knew would work.

Throwing on the first clothes that came to hand, I padded down the stairs and out to the small strip of land along the house. About twenty meters long, but only two wide, it made a perfect shooting range. I flipped a switch set in the wall, and outdoor lights flicked on over several straw bales with paper targets pined to them. I grabbed my bow quickly out of the garage, along with nearly two dozen arrows with assorted fletching patterns. Stringing it was easy; I preferred a fairly light bow, and I had years of practice. Carefully, I drew an arrow from my belt quiver, nocked it to string, and drew.

Everything narrowed to bow, target, and arrows for a time as I lost myself in the exercise. I had no idea how long I stood and shot, pausing only to reclaim my arrows or replace a target face, but finally, I felt a balanced calm descend over me. Dawn was just brushing the eastern sky when I came out of my near-trance, feeling as though I had been drowning and reached solid land. My body was exhausted, but my mind was calm for the first time in days, and my emotions no longer overwhelmed me. I could think again. For a while I did just that, stood there in the dawn waiting for my mind to produce the question that was bothering me. It came, slowly at first, then all in a rush. Why should Sora's smile cause me pain? The answer followed without conscious thought. Because it wasn't for me. I was jealous, but why? I wasn't in love with Sora… was I? The thought was impossible, but could I honestly deny it? Watching him, haunted by his beauty, enthralled by his voice? In all honesty, I couldn't. I was in love with Sora. My best friend. Who also happened to be a guy.

The last thought sent me reaching for another arrow, in automatic reaction to the tumult of that thought. I nocked it and began to draw, only to drop it in surprise at the sudden jolt of pain that ran through my arms. How long had I shot? My muscles screamed protest at every motion, and I couldn't force my hand out of its shape around the bow's grip. Suddenly, I was exhausted. I unstrung my bow with a wince of pain, and without bothering to collect my arrows, dragged myself upstairs. I didn't even remember lying down.

Sora's PoV

Riku wasn't there first hour. I know because I looked, in every hiding spot I've ever seen him in. I even climbed the tree by the computer lab. I spent a while in the tree, trying to figure out where he could possibly be. I never found him. I managed to stay pretty calm about that until fourth hour. He just felt like sleeping in today, right? Fourth hour, though, worried me a lot. Riku should have been there.

The great Riku Lostin was never absent, even when he was sick. He hated the admission of weakness more than the makeup work. Option two- he might be out of school for some other reason. And not want to tell me? That stung, but the third idea was worse. I wouldn't think about it. There was no way he could be avoiding me on purpose. The logical part of my mind dismissed it as egotistical, but a heavy weight settled on my mind, like an iron band around my chest. I felt like a caged hawk; restless, angry, and searching desperately for an out.

I had lunch on the gym roof, like always. No Riku, but at that point it didn't surprise me much. I lay there in the sun, unable to eat with my stomach in knots, and my mind in like shape. Lostinthedark. The e-mail address Riku had used to talk to me that first time. Since that whole mess, I had gotten to know him better than I had ever dreamed, but I had missed the obvious. I had always broken it down as Lostin the Dark, like a title, like an honor. But there was a darker interpretation. Lost in the dark, the same way I had been lost since I Alex and I had parted ways. Alex's voice spoke, unbidden, and I winced at the pitilessly accurate memory.

"Humans love the sun. We are diurnal by nature, and we portray good as light. But we _worship_ the darkness, with awe and the kind of respect that turns most easily to fear." I closed my eyes, wishing I could banish thought as easily as I blocked the light from my eyes. I should have helped him more. All I had done was bring trouble. He would have every right to hate me. I drifted off there, lying in the sun, and when I slept, I dreamed.

_Trapped. They had caught me easily, waiting outside my house. I took a hint of grim pleasure in the fact that they had waited several days for me there; my house was not my favorite place to be. Now I was lying, slumped against a wall in the abandoned church, my wrists and ankles bound and both bound to the alter with another length of chain. Then one of my captors paced into view, and I recognized him with a gasp completely muffled by the gag in my mouth. Cloud. He glared at me for a moment, then stalked off, calling, "Trev! He's awake." The voice that answered was so _slimy_ I shivered despite my bonds. "Good. Let's have a little … fun… with Alexiel's pet." I fought to scream, thrashing around…_

… And banged my head on the air conditioner. It took me a moment to wake up enough to realize I wasn't there anymore. That had been a bad memory; thankfully, Alex had burst in a moment later, with help. Cloud's words had been more than the truth; he had been working with Alex, and that was the signal that I could help in my own rescue. Unfortunately, Trevor had worked out his betrayal, and shot Cloud in the leg. Alex had gotten the gun away from him a split second later, and left Trevor beaten nearly to death while Devon had gotten me out, and Leon did likewise for cloud. Cloud was accepted back at base without two words being exchanged, and last I had heard, Leon and cloud had been partners, and not people to mess with.

I slipped down the drainpipe, trying to leave old memories behind along with the barren rooftop. Walking quickly, I headed for the back gate. I couldn't deal with school today, and base wasn't so far away. Turned out, I never got that far, as I was stopped by Rigel near the Art room. He had apparently decided more cronies were the answer, and they badly outnumbered me. There was no way in Hell I could take them all on and win by myself. I didn't care, because right then, I really, really, really needed to hit something.

Ouch. Another short one… Gomen. A cliffy, too! I really am on today.A cookie to the reviewer who guessed thatthe chapter titles are the lyrics from Yuki Kajiura's song Cynical World. Just as a little note, I actually have up through chapter 9 (of 16) written, just not typed. The reviews really make my day. Seriously, a good day is five hours of homework and getting smacked in the face with a football, then coming home to find two new reviews. I love you guys.

Dyslexic Angel


	7. Never again

Riku's PoV

My alarm chirped, and I unplugged it, groaning at the pain that ran through my sore arms. I fell sleep again without bothering to open my eyes. When I woke again, the sun was high and the clock read noon. If I hurried, I could get to school in time to talk to Sora before fifth hour. I wasn't sure what I wanted to talk about, but something needed to be said.

I got ready quickly, grabbing the first clean clothes that came to hand. It wasn't until I was halfway to school that I realized I'd grabbed the clothes mother had insisted I buy, bright yellow and royal blue. I never wore the bright colors, preferring dark blues and blacks. I got to school with ten minutes left of lunch, and stopped, staring at the mess going on near the Art room. There was a fight in progress. Sora stood at the center of a ring of older boys, including Rigel. Sora moved in a blur, graceful as a cat, knocking down the older boys like so many bowling pins. Rigel's efforts weren't completely ineffective, though, and Sora took blow after blow, and blood dotted his forearms from Rigel's knife.

Before I could think better of it, I charged, with a war cry that drew all eyes to me. Rigel was so surprised that my fist took him square in the jaw, and I felt something break with a sickening crack. He fell without a sound while his lackeys stared at me in mute shock. Several of then glanced at Sora, who made an over-the-top bring-it-on gesture. They fled, with almost comical fear. I looked at Rigel. A bruise was already darkening on his jaw, and I couldn't see him breathing. I knelt, and lay two fingers on his neck, searching for a pulse. I smiled with relief when I felt a flutter beneath my fingers, then two. Sora looked at me oddly, then understandingly.

"Just unconscious." He informed me. "You can't kill someone with a punch to the jaw." He collected his bag from against the wall, glancing at his cuts. "I'm going to base to take care of these." He gestured at the wounds on his arms. "Wanna come?" I nodded, still a bit at a loss for words. What had I done? I'd never hit anyone like that before.

I followed Sora mutely, my attack still numbly replaying in my mind, along with that sickening crunch. I couldn't snap out of it. I barely noticed where we were going—a seedy area on the border of the Burnt Sector. I was starting to fell a little better, but I couldn't stop the tiny tremors that ran down my arms and hands. Sora led me through the back door of an empty shop. Looking out through the broken front window, all I saw was empty half-burned shops where the great fire had licked through. It was so quiet you could hear the wind whistling through the cracks. I followed Sora down a short flight of stairs into a small, dim basement room. The only light came from high, dirty windows and a single long-burning candle on a tiny wooden table. There was barely enough light to reveal plain, whitewashed walls, two old couches, a number of cheap plastic boxes, and a scrupulously clean wooden floor. Sora walked over to the candle and removed something from a drawer beneath it. A scrap of wood, I saw as he lit it at the candle, and then moved to light an oil lamp beside one of the couches. I felt the tremors in my hand take up residence in my chest, then spread to my knees, and I sat down quickly on a faded blue couch. Sora blew out the scrap of wood and looked at me, worry clear on his face.

"You alright?" he asked, grabbing a box off a stack in one corner. It took me several tries to get the words out, as the shivers were coursing through my whole body now and making my teeth chatter.

"I-m-m fi-ine." I choked out. He looked at me, skeptical expression more felt than seen in the half-darkness. "That was my first fight." I said slowly, stilling my teeth by sheer force of will. For a moment I saw him clearly, as he walked through a sunbeam, amusement warring with concern. Then he passed out of the sun and I heard his footsteps, lightly approaching. When he came into the circle of light from the lamp, concern clear on his face. He sat down beside me on the couch, and I gasped slightly as he wrapped his arms gently around my shoulders. I stiffened at his touch, unsure of how to react. My heart was beating very fast now, but fear was the least part of the reason.

"Calm down." He spoke softly, his voice gentle, and old with more than years. "My first fight, Alex had to carry me back. I couldn't walk; my knees were shaking so badly." I couldn't tell where this was going. "It's all right, Riku. You don't always have to be strong. _Let it go._" His voice was gentle and quiet, but as intense as though he had shouted. I relaxed, and let him hold me. I knew I wasn't strong, but it helped to know he didn't mind. It helped a lot.

"I'm not. Strong all the time." My own words surprised me, a harsh whisper with more pain in it than even I had realized. Sora chuckled softly.

"No one is, love." I tensed, not sure of what I had heard. It seemed impossible. Love? Maybe I had gotten knocked out by Rigel, and was dreaming this. I found my voice again.

"What?" I asked, strangely hoarse even to my own ears. I squirmed around to look at Sora, and repeated my question. "What did you call me?" He looked as though he were mentally replaying a conversation. Suddenly, understanding lit his face. If fear were to take physical form, it would surely have been the shadows in Sora's eyes. He began to curse, hopelessly, helplessly, first in English, then in French. The fear puzzled me—had I heard him right? Why did he fear that? He finished his string of curses, and looked at me, tense with sick fear, one shoulder hunched and his eyes closed as though waiting for a blow to fall.

A thought ran through my mind, swift and shocking as an icy stream, followed by an idea. Swiftly, before I could stop to think, I lifted my face to brush my lips lightly over his. Sapphire eyes flicked open in startled disbelief—then lit with joy as hot and molten as lava, as he returned my kiss, fiercely. A moment later, I pulled back to look at him. Ecstasy burned in his eyes, ran in molten streams over his skin, and he seemed to glow from within, like fire in a rice paper lantern. But best of all, the darkness was gone. The shadow that had always lurked in the bottom of his eyes, the old pain, only dulled, never forgotten. Had vanished like mist in the morning when I kissed him. I kissed him again, in joy and love, making it a promise. I would never let the shadow back. I would not share with a shadow. Sora was mine.

Not too long, but a bit better. This one and the last were really one chapter, but that would have had things happening far too fast, so I split them up. I'm not really sure if that was a good idea or not. Again, I can't seem to say it enough. I love the reviews, I love the reviewers, and you people who put this story on your favorites list really made my day. This story is for everyone who likes to read it; I write it for myself, but I would never find the time (or the courage) to post so much without your help. Seriously, I love you all. I give you my (inadequate) thanks, and this story. Thank you for your time.

Dyslexic Angel


	8. Return from a cynical world

Sora's PoV

I just lay there for a long time. Somehow I'd gotten wrapped up in Riku's arms, and I was perfectly content to just lie there, letting Riku tend the cuts on my arms. His hands were gentle, soothing the sting of wounds I truly hadn't noticed in the heat of battle.

"Mm… I don't think this needs to be stitched. It's still bleeding though." I giggled, exhilaration and blood loss making me almost giddy.

"Just slap a butterfly bandage on it." I told him, giggling again. Butterfly bandage. Suddenly, I hissed as a cut on my cheek opened. Minor and barely deep enough to bleed, it still stung badly. I grabbed for a bottle of "painkiller" from the kit—airline bottles of cheap brandy. The liquor served double purpose as painkiller and sanitizer. I drank the bottle in three gulps, wincing at the flavor. Burned like fire and tasted worse than cat spit, but almost instantly, a pleasant numbness burned through me, starting at my fingers and spreading until it reached my face. I sighed and relaxed, letting Riku deal with the rest of my cuts. He placed the last bandage and fixed it down, then slid a hand along my jaw to capture my face.

"You," he said calmly, "are amazing." Then he brushed his lips slowly over the cut on my cheek, licking away the blood smeared there from when I had run my hand across my face. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to meet mine. His kiss was gentle, and as innocent as any other aspect of him. I deepened it, pressing against him, and felt him respond, tentatively. I just lost myself in him for a time, letting my lips and hands tell the truth I would never find the words to say. I pulled out of it finally, quite pleasantly drunk, and with the aftereffects of the fight really hitting me, I was suddenly exhausted. I sighed, and attempted to lie down. Riku moved with me, so that I ended up half on top of him, my head on his chest and his arms around me. He lifted one, briefly, to snuff out the lamp, and I wrapped my arms around his waist to pull him closer to me. I didn't want to wake up and find him gone. I drifted off quickly, lulled by his warmth and the gentle drumbeat of his heart.

Riku's PoV

Sora's lips were like fire on mine, tasting of blood and alcohol. Eventually, he pulled away, exhaustion in every line of him. I shifted with him, moving him so his head lay against my chest. I reached up and snuffed out the lamp with the metal lid on the case, and Sora hugged me tightly against him. Quite soon, I heard his breathing slow into the steady rhythm of sleep. I drifted slowly myself, neither wholly asleep nor fully awake, but some part of my mind wouldn't let me sleep, for fear that when I woke, it would all turn out to be a dream.

I pulled Sora closer, my talisman against loneliness. He was so intense, a raging fire that never gave itself half-heartedly. That was a good metaphor for him—like fire, he would push himself until he burned out. He looked so innocent asleep. I knew now, how inaccurate that image was. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he had killed. He was definitely not an innocent. I was not as young as he imagined, either. I had neither loved nor fought as he had; but I was innocent, not ignorant. I drifted deeper into sleep, and for a long time, all there was was the warmth pressed against me, and the smell of blood and cheap brandy, not quite masking the gentle fragrance of vanilla.

When I woke completely, the only light was from the candle on the end table to my right. I nudged Sora gently, and he stirred, wrinkling his nose and opening his eyes. For a moment they were wary, then they fell on me, and the affection—and trust—in those bottomless eyes stole my breath for a moment. In the dim light, they looked almost navy, slightly dizzy.

"Sora?" My voice seemed very loud, and it was only then I realized how silent it was outside. "We should go. What time is it?" He blinked twice and looked at his watch, still a little out of it.

"Wha.. About six o'clock." He answered, sleepily. I heaved a sigh of relief. "Mom won't worry till seven. I need to get home." I grabbed my backpack and swung it over one shoulder. "What about your dad?" I asked. Sora laughed, bitterly.

"He won't notice if I come home at all. May I come over for dinner?"

"Sure, my mom won't mind, and that say we can claim we stayed after school." He followed me up the stairs, into the empty shop. It turned out it wasn't full dark, but dim twilight. "We'd better hurry, before it gets dark." We picked up the pace to a slow run, and didn't slow down 'till we were barely a block from my house. My mother greeted us at the door, with only a raised eyebrow at Sora. I led him up the narrow stairs to my room, and slung my backpack down on the floor. "Dinner probably won't be ready for another half hour." I told him. My mother was making roast chicken, and the timer had still had twenty minutes left when we went through the kitchen. I picked my way across the room to the window, a nice bay one with a window seat. Sora followed me carefully; Large, orderly stacks of books were scattered across the floor, some of them waist high. I sat down on the window seat and looked out. Behind our house is a tiny rocky beach, and the moon was already beginning to rise over the water, even though it wasn't fully dark.

"It's beautiful." Sora whispered, hushed awe in his voice. He sat down beside me, and when I wrapped my arms loosely around his waist, he leaned against me, comfortably.

"It is." I agreed, mentally discarding a cheesy line about 'not as beautiful as you'.

Sora's PoV

Riku's mom was a pleasant surprise. I had expected it to be like mine; the only thing they really had in common was height of the ground. A converted attack, the ceiling sloped as low as five feet on two walls, peaking to nearly ten in the middle. The ceiling beams had been painted royal blue, and the walls were a pale, icy blue. Book cases lined every bit of three walls except for a dresser, a desk, and a mattress on the floor. The crowning feature, however, was the enormous bay window on the fourth, empty wall. The window seat was covered with a blue cushion and white gauze curtains blowing in the wind off the water. A laptop computer sat on one corner of the seat, a sleek silver one with a microphone headset and exterior speakers plugged in. Riku paced over to the window, threading neatly between waist high stacks of books. The books where everywhere—even Alex had never read this much. He sat gracefully, and I sat beside him, feeling a faint thrill when he pulled me into a loose embrace. I was enthralled by the beauty of the moon and the ocean, but they did not compare to Riku.

Your reviews were frankly, so good I had to re-read them a couple of times to believe what I was reading. I mean, wow. No, this story is not over. It is, however, the lull before the storm. I think I may take a break to get a head on the typing, so if I don't post for a week or so, I have not abandoned the story. My love to you all.

Dyslexic Angel


	9. If you feel

Sora's PoV

I went off to school the next morning feeling downright chipper. I had wound up spending the night at Riku's. Although nothing had happened, it worked _wonders_ on my mood to know that someone would miss me if I weren't around. That it was Riku who would miss me certainly didn't hurt. I was wearing his clothes, though I doubted anyone would notice; he was pretty much my size, and _I_ had never seen him in this outfit before. A loose black shirt had the word Otaku printed on it in yellow, with the Japanese below it, and a pair of loose jeans slit nearly to the thigh down the sides were laced up with black leather cord. I wasn't used to it, but _most_ of Riku's clothing seemed to be black.

I was about twenty minutes ahead of him—when I got up at my normal time, he just _looked_ at me, and then went back to sleep. I was willing to bet he'd be late to second hour (if he even showed up before lunch) but I wanted some time to myself. I ran into something surprising on the way to the library. Or rather, some_one_. Actually, I stopped dead with my mouth hanging open and stared.

"What are you doing here?" I managed to choke out. Alex laughed.

"Decided to shadow here today." His tone turned sly. "Busy night?" I blushed.

"Umm… none of your business. I'm afraid to ask how you figured that out." He just tapped the side of his neck meaningfully, and when I looked in the mirror, I found an impressive red mark. I blushed deeply and fished the choker out of my backpack, clasping it so the leather band hid the mark.

"It wasn't just that. You looked _happy_. That was a dead give away." Alex said. I grinned at him, feeling my blush recede. "Shadowing, huh? You thinking of trading art school for the nasty public school?" Alex winced slightly, and sobered.

"Yeah. Things aren't going so good."

"What's wrong?" I asked, my good mood hidden from my face but not really gone.

"Aerith is convinced I'm stalking her." I snorted, but asked half-seriously.

"Are you?" He snorted too.

"Of course not. There is no lady for me save one, the fair and radiant Yuffie." Alex sighed like a lovesick fool, and I choked.

"Yuffie? That girl we met at Cloud's Christmas party? The one who drank too much eggnog, then tried to convince everyone she was the queen of ninja, and set Tidus's pants on fire when he wouldn't agree with her? That Yuffie?"

"The very same." Alex replied dreamily. I couldn't help it, I _laughed_. The idea of somber Alex with that insane ninja was nothing short of hilarious. Alex jus glared at me. He had a very withering glare.

Finally, I calmed down, just in time to see Riku turning the corner, talking animatedly with _Kairi_. I ducked quickly around the building, and into the library where I could watch from the windows. Riku was talking quite happily with Kairi, and every so often both of them would break out laughing.

Eventually, she left to go to class, and I realized Alex had been watching over my shoulder the whole time, and now watched me, face devoid of all emotion. I sighed, and used one of the hand gestures we had developed, touching the tip of the middle finger to the thumb to form a circle. All clear he replied by forming a fist with his thumb out to one side. Bullshit I rose and walked off, forming as I went a sign we had made up as a joke—all fingers folded save middle and ring finger. I'm the boss, and I say so. Alex wisely enough left me alone for the rest of first hour, and Riku showed up when it was about halfway through.

"Have a nice talk with Kairi?" I asked, a tad bitterly. He looked startled, then amused.

"Why yes, but nothing to get jealous over. She was just doing her best to pump me for info about you." He smiled. "She seems to have a king sized crush on you." I calmed down, mollified, and wondered vaguely how he'd known I was jealous. Only Alex had ever been able to read me like that. I wasn't sure I liked it. I sighed, dismissing it from my mind. It didn't matter.

Riku's PoV

Sora left early the next morning, and I tried to get a few extra minutes of sleep before school. Eventually, though, I gave up on it and dressed in blue jeans and a bright yellow shirt. The cheery color fit my mood perfectly. Walking to school, I crossed paths with Kairi. We chatted for a few moments about the weather, and then one of us brought up Sora. I was more than happy to have the opportunity to brag about how wonderful my boyfriend was, but she didn't seem to be really listening, and several times I caught her looking at me as though she weren't all there.

When I found Sora in the library first hour, he confronted me about it, asking with deceptive mildness if I had had a nice talk with Kairi. I had answered carefully, and he had calmed down. Then he gave me a bit of surprising news.

"Alex is shadowing today."

"I thought he was going to some special art school." I answered. Not the most original of comments, but Sora didn't seem to mind.

"Yeah, but he wanted a day off, and he's used up his absence quota. He's having trouble with a girl at his school, and he's fallen hard for a complete lunatic. Let me tell you, this girl is _not_ normal…" he then told me the funniest story about how he had met Yuffie. Parts of it were too over-the-top to be true, but even still, Yuffie sounded like a character. I pitied Alex having to deal with her on a regular basis.

The rest of the day passed as a happy blur, though we had a moment of anxiety at lunch. Rigel, apparently not believing he could be beaten _twice _by two "fags", was giving it a third try. However, it never came to blows. Rigel looked at Alex. Alex looked at Rigel. Rigel looked at Alex. Then Alex _smiled_, showing all his teeth in an expression quite suited to a shark. Rigel left quickly, and I had a feeling he wouldn't bother us again. The rest of the afternoon went by in about five minutes, and I waved goodbye to Alex and Sora in a better mood than I'd been in a long time.

I haven't posted on this in a long time, and for that, I apologize. I have been writing it, but I haven't been able to find time to _type_ _it up_. I just spent the weekend at TusCon (no, I did not spell that wrong), and I didn't have net access. I was able to get a fair bit written though, so I guess its ok. I've been busy with NaNoWriMo and a large school project, so I probably won't make more than one more post in November, at least on this. Oneshots are subject to show up randomly. Thank you for your patience.

Dyslexic Angel


	10. You've loved me in vain

Riku's PoV

How many hours to a day has very little to do with how long it is. Yesterday had felt very short; today seemed an eternity. I had tried IM-ing Sora, but he hadn't answered, so now I was sitting in my window seat with my guitar, finishing a song I was writing. It was one of my favorite of my current pieces, with bitterly sarcastic lyrics and an angry ending like crashing thunder, but the chords kept changing in my hands. I kept finding myself playing a lament, longing and bittersweet. With a sound of annoyance I reached for a fresh piece of paper and a pen, and began jotting scraps of lyric and chord progressions. I felt much better with the contents of my mind spilled across the paper. Now that I was no longer fighting it, the tune came quickly, a wild eerie lament, for what I wasn't sure. No words set themselves to it, so I simply jotted it down in a book of blank music paper. Suggestion of other tunes drifted on the edges of my mind, but none were ready to step into the light just yet, so I put the guitar in its case and stowed it in the closet. It wasn't full dark yet. I could walk over to Sora's house… the moment the though occurred to me, I began to walk, down the stairs and out the door. Sora would still be up, and we could talk and laugh and drive the night away together. I walked to Sora's quickly, and arrived just as the last of the sun was touching the sky. Perfect.

Sora's PoV

If you rated a day from one to ten, ten being the best, my day was too far in the negative numbers to be remotely funny. Even so, I was the happy one. Alex had showed up around four o'clock—and one look at his face told me why he was here. He wore a half-stunned expression, changing even as I watched to unbearable pain. I quickly snuck him up to my room, sat him down on the couch, and grabbed my 'heart first aid kit'—a box of mini Hershey bars.

"You want to tell me what happened?" I asked him, shifting him so his head was on my shoulder.

"Yuffie." Was all he said. I made a little ah of understanding. Alex was a deadly fighter, but he had a heart of butter when it came to anything cute—and one of Yuffie's few virtues was undeniable cuteness. He broke down the, and cried on my shoulder. I felt helpless; all I could do was hold him as he cried. Finally, the tears slowed, and then stopped.

"I should go." He said, sounding weary, but without the heartbreak he had had. I didn't try to stop him, just walked along side him until we were standing in the packed dust of the yard.

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked, making the question a prayer that he would. Alex nodded. I hugged him, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, brother." I whispered. Then more loudly, "I don't dare lose you." Alex managed a weak grin and a wave, and left. I looked away—right into familiar emerald eyes, slitted and near glowing with rage. I backed up a step in the face of Riku's fury.

"Very _close_ friend, isn't he?" Riku hissed, soft and poisonously sarcastic. I tried to speak, and had to wet a throat turned suddenly to dust.

"Just a friend. You know that, Riku." My words appeared to soothe him--- until I reached his name. The fury returned full-force to his face, laced with bitter hurt and terrifying in its intensity. "Please." I was begging, and we both knew it. "Please trust me, Riku." My voice had dropped to a bare thread, agonized and strained like taught harp wire. When he answered, scorn laced his words, more painful than even the hurt, despite the almost civil tone.

"Damn you, Sora. And damn me for believing in you." He stalked off then, leaving me alone, too shocked even to cry. The wind alerted me to tears tracking their way down my cheeks as I dropped to my knees in the dust. Two beads of salt water dropped to the dirt, followed by… nothing. A cold numbness of disbelief, and a sensation like brittle ice forming in a cold crystalline web over my skin. If I moved, that fragile skin would crack. If I didn't, it would melt. I forced myself to my feet, and the shock broke, as I had known it would. Blackness clouded my vision as wave after wave of despair washed over my heart.

A part of me watched, as though from great distance. Looked dispassionately at the broken pieces of what might once have been my heart. That same corner of self took the shattered bits, and pieced them together, pasted into a mockery of a whole. It still hurt. Hurt like the time when I was six and stuck my hand in the fire, or when I was nine and broke my arm falling off my bike. I could pretend it didn't. And maybe, if I pretended hard enough, for long enough, I could make it true. Maybe some distant dreamer's deity would take my life, and with it, take the pain. It hurt. I could pretend it didn't. I could pretend to be a bird, and flap my arms all the way down the long drop of a cliff, more like. It still hurt.

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I guess it's still November… my time. Sorry, this one is _very _short. I didn't manage NaNo, I'm ashamed to say, but I guess I'll just try again next year. Thanks for bearing with me. The reviews… I don't know how many times I'm going to say this, but it is never any less true. The reviews are wonderful. You people are what gives me the inspiration, to get out and try some mornings, knowing, if nothing else, I made someone happy. Every time I get on the computer, I go to the favorites list and pick-- andsmile. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Dyslexic Angel


	11. Why not re live?

Riku's PoV

I hurt. Not the sharp pain of knives over skin, but the slow, dull ache of broken bone. My first flare of rage had carried me here—the secret place. I had run, half blind, not even knowing where I was going. No matter how fast you go, you can't outrun yourself. When the first burst of fury ran out, I finally looked around me. I was in a small cave, on the beach. Right on the edge of the burnt sector, where the shells of dead buildings glared like carrion birds. I had come here often, when I couldn't stand the loneliness, but after the Great Fire, no one was allowed here for so long, I had forgotten.

It was then that the full weight of what I had done hit me, with the force of a mountain avalanche. I felt my knees simply stop holding me, and I hit the sand hard. Emotions boiled through my veins, overwhelming, too intense to identify. Pain. Anger. Jealousy. Affection. To strong for mere attraction. It had to be love. Only love and death could hurt so damn much. I lay down in the sand, and stared at the patterns the sunset made, leaking through the small hole in the ceiling near the entrance. It didn't seem fair that it should be such a pretty sunset, when my life had just fallen to bits. Again.

"Calm, Riku." It was a hoarse whisper in the near-silence. "I'm sure it was nothing, just like he said. Just apologize, and everything will be all right." Talking to myself, first sign of madness. Even I didn't believe it was that simple. I didn't know if Sora had really been with Alex or not. What I saw could have just been a gesture between friends. Yeah, right. Even I wasn't that dumb. Why would Sora stick with an obnoxious weak little moron who couldn't even stand after throwing _one punch_? Why stick with me, when he could have Alex? I sure as hell couldn't compete with him. He was strong, smart, and beautiful. Everything I wasn't. Even if, by some miracle, Sora had chosen me, there was no way he could forgive me now. I had seen the pain on his face. He would go ice-skating in hell before he forgave me. I had no doubt Sora could hold a grudge.

I blinked, and rose to a sitting position. It didn't matter. I would survive, the same way I always had. And I would never let them see me cry. A stubborn fool, but never a weak one. I would not shed a tear. And I would outlive the bastards. I wiped the tears off my face. No more fell to replace them, I forced myself to an icy, frigid calm, and held it by pure force of will. I rose to my feet, and walked back to the very back of the cave. There was a large wooden box there, a makeshift alter to any god at all, real or imagined. I opened it carefully, then drew out a clay burner and a stick of incense. Then, with a rattle, I pulled out the false bottom of the box. Underneath was a small compartment, about four inches deep. Inside was a knife, as long as my forearm, with a silver hilt fashioned in the shape of a dragon. The black leather sheath was just a bit dusty. I drew the knife, almost a short sword, with a metallic _shing_ that echoed through the cave. The blade shone, polished mirror bright, reflecting the flare as I lit the incense. The smell of jasmine filled the cave, incongruously sweet. I lifted the blade and drew it lightly over the inside of my wrist. A thin bead of blood followed the knife, completely hiding the old scar. It wasn't deep; the knife was so sharp I could barely feel the cut. Three drops of blood fell from my hand, winding around my wrist before dropping to the sand. Shocking red on icy white. The colors fascinated me; it felt as though all my trouble had flowed into those red drops, spreading into snowflake patterns of red on the pale sand. The cut had stopped bleeding, and an icy sensation had filled my body. A frozen, unnatural calm. The same shelter that had gotten me through when my father had died. I am stone. I blew out the incense and sheathed the knife, stowing everything back in the box. Not a thought passed through my mind. Not a feeling. Blessed numbness. The stuff packed, I began to walk. Not quickly, just walking the direction of my house. I refused to call it home. That was back in the cave, with the sweet smell of incense and the copper tang of blood. I walked a long time, and the moon was high when I finally reached my house. All the windows were dark, and as I slipped in the back door, I could hear my mother snoring softly. Quietly, I headed up to my room and readied for bed. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I did not dream.

Sora's PoV

Monday morning. Annoying at the best of times, today it was a living hell. Looking at him, he was completely calm. He acted like nothing had happened. He looked like a goddamned ice statue. I couldn't decide if I was angry or not. It was all overwhelmed by hurt still. It was fourth hour, and I was watching him from across the room. He was chatting with Kairi, looking as though he'd had a perfect weekend. I felt a stab of jealousy, then a realization like a brick to the head. This was what he had felt when he'd seen me with Alex. At least, I hoped he had cared enough to feel it. You couldn't prove it now by looking. Thinking about him hurt, but I was sad to realize that I had hurt him plenty, too. I ate on the roof. It had become my normal spot, and I couldn't deal with people today… but it was more than that. It was my challenge, a dare for Riku. Can you face me, all alone? I didn't know if I wanted him to come or not. I didn't know what I felt. Half the time I wanted to throw him off the cliff for not trusting me, hut part of me wanted to jump of that cliff myself for hurting him. A third part of me thought I should try to get him back, by all methods fair or foul, but a fourth part feared that it would happen again. I sighed, and raked my fingers through my hair. Life was complicated enough when my mind agreed with itself.

I heard someone at the drainpipe, and froze my face into my most expressionless mask. A wisp of silver fluttered, and for a moment, I looked into eyes the color of the sea at sunset. For a moment, those eyes were unguarded, and I could see his reaction to my presence. It wasn't fear, though that was some of it. It wasn't the anger I had steeled myself against. Pain was not the only element. Quick as he appeared, Riku vanished, leaving me to ponder what that other emotion had been, lying naked in his eyes. Eventually, I gave it up as a bad cause. It didn't matter. By now my anger and hurt were dulling, leaving a depressed apathy in their wake. Nothing mattered. A thought drifted through my mind, slow as a bubble rising through honey. Alex had hated that apathy. Alex would have trusted me. Riku caused the apathy. Riku who hated me.

The glass wall that had been forming between me and the world shattered, and I was angry, restless, spoiling for a fight. Leaving my stuff where it was, I slid down the drainpipe. I wanted to run, fight, dance, climb—anything to escape the fire itching just under my skin. Run I did, headed for the one place I knew I could find a fight. The old church, in the middle of the burnt sector. Trevor's lair. His gang had been getting involved in much harder stuff than our children's war; an opium operation, making the stuff and selling it in the slums near the burnt sector. Trashing the lab would be a good way to work out my frustration, and do a good deed at the same time. My odds might be pretty good, if there were only one or two guards, or terrible, if enough of the older guys were around. My feet slowed, and changed direction. I needed some backup. Not other people; Alex would bop me over the head for even suggesting something this stupid, and he was at school anyway. No, I wanted my sword. I reached the base, and grabbed it. This was not my practice sword; my practice sword compared to this like a butter knife to an eight inch switchblade. My practice sword was slimmer, a light bamboo thing that was not very good for inflicting damage. This was a bokun—a long katana-like thing, made not of the usual light wood, but strips of maple, ironwood and ebony, joined seamlessly in a blade just a touch _heavier_ than metal. The hilt was wrapped in black cloth over silver wire for a better grip. I picked it up and tested the weight. It had been a long time since I had used it. The sword went in a shoulder harness I pulled out of the same box, and I was ready. Time to do something _really_ stupid. Just as I was headed to the door, it swung open. Alex. Damn. A sort of manic energy had crept over me, and I didn't want to be stopped.

"Sora?" Alex's voice was puzzled. "What are you doing here? And." His voice changed made it a statement, "why are you wearing your sword. Never mind, I know. You're going to do something stupid." Damn, he was sharp today. He slid the sword from its sheath and swung it over his shoulder. "You'll get it back when you tell me where you're going." I sighed, absently running a hand through my hair… that was becoming a habit…no use lying to Alex, even if I hadn't promised.

"Going to make some trouble for the bastard cow." 'The bastard cow' was Alex's nickname for Trevor. I was referring to a long diatribe Alex had come up with, not long after Trevor had kidnapped me. Now he looked at me more closely, and he didn't seem to like what he saw. I shifted, foot to foot, wanting to be gone. The anger had faded out as quickly as it had come, replaced by manic energy, and the feel of fire under my skin had worsened.

"Riku trouble?" he asked, understanding and sympathetic.

"I don't want to talk about it." I said. Deep understanding flashed in his eyes. Alex had seen me do this before. He answered in a near whisper.

"You're doing yourself no favors. Last time you wound up in the hospital. You looking to die, this time?" I started to answer, of course not, and then remembered my promise. My promise never to lie to Alex. Death would be an antidote to pain. My silence was answer enough, and he sighed.

"One sec. Let me get my knives." I raised an eyebrow. "What? I can't stop you. And I _really_ need to hit something." My eyebrows were in danger of becoming part of my hair. I blinked. Looked like he was having dating trouble, too.

"You do this often?" I asked, worried despite myself.

"Often enough." He confessed, ruefully. "Let's go cause some trouble." that last was spoken with a murderous grin, and I could feel myself give a matching one.

"Lets."

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Obviously, I didn't get a chance to double post. Thank you, yet again, to everyone who reviewed. Timeteo, I apreciate the suggestion, but as songfics are not allowed, (and the whole thing is a sort of songfic anyway, cynical world, by yuki kajiura) I'm not planning to use it. (also, a lot of mine is written in advance. I'm working on chapter 14 right now, of an eventual 16) Things are going to work out eventually, but this chapter was one of the hardest to write. Luck to you all.

Dyslexic Angel


	12. Your guilty love affair

Riku's PoV

Sora was missing his afternoon classes. I know, because I watched him leave. My forced calm didn't last long. My first sight of Sora sent a fierce spike of hurt through me, even through my fog of calm. It was all downhill from there. Everything reminded me of Sora. Pretty soon, I just gave in and remembered, and thought. Thought about how I could _fix_ it. By fourth hour, I had a headache the size of Texas, and an ache in my heart that made it look tiny. I was fighting hard to keep from crying, and the sight of Sora didn't help. Then Kairi came over. Something of my pain must have shown on my face, as the first words out of her mouth were,

"Are you all right?" I managed to dredge up a smile. It wasn't a very good one, and I can only guess it looked as bad as it felt.

"Rotten headache." I replied, tersely. She looked gratifyingly worried, and began digging through her purse for something. Finally, she pulled out a small plastic bottle. Kairi handed it to me.

"Here. Headache medicine. I always carry it." I gave her a look I could only hope conveyed my gratitude. I guess it did, because she smiled. I couldn't help smiling back as I gulped down two pills dry and returned the bottle. Even if she was just trying to get to Sora, Kairi was a genuinely nice girl. Sora… my smile melted like ice in the July sun.

"You _sure _you're all right?" Kairi asked. "I haven't seen you this upset in a long time." I started slightly.

"How long have you been watching me?" She blushed, bringing the ghost of a smile to my lips. She was cute when she did that.

"Ummm… You _are_ one of the hottest guys in school." Kairi choked out. She was doing a great imitation of a tomato by now. Her words caught me completely flat-footed. Blink blink. Me. One of the hottest guys in school. I burst out laughing. Kari's blush was beginning to fade, and she glared at me with equal parts frustration and amusement. Finally I stopped laughing.

"Really." Kairi declared, as though that should finish any argument.

"Then why are you always asking about Sora?" I winced as my voice cracked on his name.

"You seemed to need to talk about him." I sighed.

"I did." I hadn't meant to put the slight emphasis on 'did', but I heard it clearly when I spoke. Kairi looked at me hard.

"You two got in a fight, didn't you?" The sympathy and real concern in her voice soothed any trace of accusation. I only nodded in response; my voice just didn't seem up to the task. She made no response, and I went back to what I was doing, (seeing how many pieces I could break my pencil into) and class ended without any real trouble. I slipped out as soon as the bell rang. When Sora came out, I followed him a good bit behind to the drainpipe roof access. Sometime between my conversation with Kairi, and the bell, I had reached a decision. I had to try and patch this up. Even my false calm trick wasn't working; I was near tears, and a bit angry, though I wasn't sure at whom. I scrambled up the drainpipe, and peaked over the roof, carefully. Sora was looking at me, with the most terrible look on his face. His expression was calm, a frozen mask, serene in the same way death is. His eyes burned impossibly blue with what I was sure was anger. All hope in me of reconciliation died.

I dropped off the drainpipe and walked over to the tree by the back gate. It had nice thick leaves, thick enough that no one on the ground could see me unless they were specifically looking. Then I let the tears fall. He hated me! For not trusting him. He was right to hate me. I hated myself just now. I wasn't good for anything but sitting around and looking pretty and I wasn't even very good at _that_. There was no way someone like Sora would waste his time on a jerk like me. I must have misinterpreted something. He didn't want me; he just wanted a model or something. I must disgust him, a paranoid sonofabitch with no virtues and a great wealth of vices. I wept, wept at how pathetic I was, how stupid for ever believing someone could want me that way. I cried soundlessly; I didn't dare be heard.

Footsteps sounded in the packed earth below, and I looked down to see Sora, headed out the back gate in quick, angry strides. Anger and something not quite sane made his face a mask. I almost laughed at that. Who was I to be a judge of sanity? When he was out of sight, I jumped, dropping out of the tree. I couldn't deal with the rest of school today. I needed my secret place, my delirious lack of emotion, delicious oblivion in blood on fine white sand. I ran. Hard and fast, feet pounding the wet sand, hair whipping around my face. Running. Trying to catch the horizon, trying to outrun myself. I reached the cave and entered. Quickly, I unpacked the silver knife. The smell of jasmine still lingered, like a ghost of bitter memories.

I drew the blade lightly across my wrist. Blood. Red on white, roses and ivory. A sharp, coppery smell and crimson drops splashing into sand like pale snow. Ice. Frozen, unfeeling, lost. I cut again, deeper. Pain. A physical anchor, a tie against drowning in my own, mixed-up feelings. The coldness began to seep through my heart. Peace. My thoughts were very slow, drifting, not really touching me. There was a lot of blood on the sand. I should bandage the cuts. I nodded, agreeing with myself. A roll of gauze came from the box. My motions were as slow as my mind, as though I moved through thick honey. The thought occurred that the deeper slash might need stitching—I pushed it away. Of course not. I rinsed the cuts with fresh water, and wrapped gauze around them. I slid a black sweatband over the bandage to hide it. Then the knife was in my hand. There was blood on the blade. I tilted it back and forth, admiring the play of light. I would have to be careful. If mother noticed the cuts, they might send me away again… I didn't dare be sent away. I had to repay Sora. Do something to make up for my arrogance. Then the rest would be at Lady Luck's whim. I rose and walked over to a small pool near the cave's entrance. You would expect it to be salt, so near the sea, but this was fresh water, pure enough to drink. I wet a rag and began to clean the blade, wiping the blood off my hand and arm at the same time. My thoughts were slowly approaching normal speed, but I still felt as though there were a thick pane of glass between me and the world. My limbs felt heavy, but my head was light, empty. U sheathed the blade and returned it to the crate. I walked home slowly, the long way on the beach, and arrived about when I would normally get home from school. I went upstairs, headed towards the bed… I don't remember lying down.

Sora's PoV

Alex and I returned to base an hour later, covered in sweat and dirt, and speckled with blood, glass, and paint. Trevor had had a fairly nice setup in the old church; an opium lab, filled with glassware, had taken up nearly half of one of the old basement rooms. Alex and I had taken out two guards—which was unusual, on a school day—then proceeded to cause as much damage as possible. If there was a whole beaker in the church anywhere, I would be surprised. Then Alex had left Trevor a calling card; a painting, on the table, of an angel with Alex's face. The angel was making a very rude gesture. I flopped down on the blue couch with a sigh, trying not to remember cuddling with Riku there.

"That felt good. I needed to hit something." Alex's words were a pleasant distraction.

"Yeah. It helps." I was content to leave it at that. I closed my eyes and felt myself drifting off. I had not slept well the night before. Footsteps on the stairs jolted me full awake. Too light to be anyone but Yuffie, and she would be at school. A moment later a girl stepped into the room. She was pretty much my height, with shoulder length black hair and brown eyes set in a heart-shaped face. She wore a leather skirt slit to the hip down the sides and a tight black leather bodice. I watched Alex's jaw drop with no little amusement. She was quite pretty, with very fair skin and a spark of life in her eyes that showed her a tad more than she seemed at first glance. Since Alex seemed temporarily speech deprived, I ran through the routine.

"State your name, rank, and serial number. Oh, and if you're selling bibles or nerve tonic, prepare to be drowned in a vat of lime Jell-O." I thought I caught a flicker of a smile before she repressed it firmly, and humor glinted in her eyes despite her solemn voice.

"Tifa Lockhart. Ex-med-school student. No number. And I'm an atheist." She rattled off, as though it explained everything.

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" Alex asked, recovering his power of speech (if not his wits). She giggled, and I stuffed my fist in my mouth to stifle laughter. Alex shot me a look that would have blistered paint, making it even harder to stay quiet.

"Who _are_ you two? You look like the people who took out my jailers, but you certainly don't act very tough." Alex glared at me again before answering.

"Alex Lockanvahr, at your service. This rascal is Sora Knorth. Why are you here?" The girl—Tifa, sobered instantly.

"I'm looking for protection." Her voice was clear, but trembled slightly.

"From what?" I asked, my own laughter stilled. I saw her hands shake slightly, but her voice remained strong.

"Trevor. I'm a drop out medical student. Pharmacology. I was the one making opium and the reason for the guards. Without them, I was able to get away, but if he finds me… I can't let him find me." Now her voice did falter, and she began to quiver slightly. Alex and I shared a look.

"Consider yourself under my protection." Alex declared. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and that bastard is _certainly_ my enemy." I settled back on the couch, content. Tifa would be safer than most, under Alex's personal protection. Trust Alex to fall for a girl in under thirty seconds… he was staring at her as though she were some kind of goddess. I felt a twinge of loneliness. I suspected I had looked at Riku just that way, more than once. I got more comfortable on the couch.

"Just like that?" Tifa was asking.

"Just like that." Alex sounded amused. I drifted off to the sound of laughter, lilting soprano and rich baritone. I was lonely, but I would live. I had to.

Riku's PoV

The next morning, I had a really disturbing conversation with Kairi. She said that a friend of hers—she wouldn't say who—had seen Sora and a man that sounded like Alex headed through the burnt sector, covered in what looked like blue paint and blood. That worried me. If Sora was getting mixed up in that business, he was more upset than I had thought. Sora's reaction to most kinds of pain seemed to be hitting something. From what he had told me though, the gangs were dangerous. Nobody had died—yet—but almost everyone involved had spent some time in the hospital, or worse, in the base when real healthcare was too expensive.

The information niggled at me all day, melting the false calm like steady sun on a snowdrift. Sora seemed—different. He was calmer, more focused. But no less angry, no less hurt. Just coping better, keeping it hidden. It made my heart ache to see him, pretending to be fine; when it was clear to me he was just as bad off as I. My false serenity was deeper today, and lasted longer, and the day passed in a swirl of abstract thought I could not afterwards remember.

After school, I began to walk. It wasn't until I arrived at my secret place that I realized where I was going. I dropped my pack near the entrance, and sat cross-legged in the sand before the alter. I had cleaned away the blood yesterday, so I drew out the knife and another stick of jasmine incense and lit it. The calm had not faded completely; enough remained for a little bit of thought, though I could already feel reality returning as a dull ache in my mind, like a broken bone.

I turned up my right wrist into the light, removing the sweatbands I normally wore. The wind made a sound like a choked gasp, and I smiled bitterly at my ability to shock even the elements. The inside of my forearm was covered with scars, some thick, some thin, but the worst still stood out clearly. It ran the course of the vein like some malignant red rope from elbow to wrist, and showed signs of being stitched. The cut had been too deep, and mother had found me passed out behind the garage. We had moved as soon as I was fit to travel. For months I had been too far out of it to care. I had not left any great friends behind. Then something, or some_one, _had snapped me out of it. A pair of defiant eyes, an electric blue that dared life to do its worst. Watching, separate, aloof. I had forgotten. The memories hurt, like a fistful of razor edged diamonds, too painful to hold, to precious to cast away. I was worried for him. I drew the knife and played with it while I thought, but no solution came to me. If he continued to hurt, he would continue to fight. If he continued to fight, he would get hurt, maybe die. I could not stop it. He could not forgive me; I could not forgive myself.

I took the blade in both hands, and lay the tip lightly over the hollow of my throat. I pressed lightly, drawing a small drop of blood, and the gulls' cries were like a smothered scream. I tried to press harder—one clean thrust, but my hands wouldn't obey me, and began to shake. I forced them closer, and felt the blood trickle down my skin. The knife fell from my fingers, which were shaking too badly to hold it. I stared at it, numbly, the crystal eyes watching me in mocking challenge. My shoulders began to shake with something that could have been laughter or tears. A harsh sound came from my throat, too bitter to really be a laugh as tears tracked down my face. I wasn't even brave enough to _die_ quickly. That thought gave me pause. Did I want to die? Yes. The answer followed as naturally as breathing. Sora hated me; there was very little point in living. I certainly wasn't of any use. Even if I lacked the courage for the throat, I could still take death. I had never flinched from Him before.

I rose, and grabbed a clean cloth from the box, along with a hairbrush and a small vial of sandalwood oil. Wetting the rag from the pool, I wiped the blood and tears from my face and neck, then splashed my face with more of the icy water. I ran the brush through my hair a few times, till it fell neatly to my shoulders, and then brushed in a few drops of the sweetly scented oil. If I was going to die, I was going to look my best. I went back to the makeshift alter, and lit another stick of incense. Not jasmine; that was too sweet for a funeral. This was a scent called Dragon's Blood. One last thing to do. I took the knife, and with the tip, scratched an asymmetrical heart into the wood of the alter. My last cryptic message.

I knelt before the alter, the knife gripped hilt-down between my knees. I took a deep breath—and ran my hands up the knife edge, slashing both wrists nearly to the bone. At first, I felt only the cold of the blade—then fire ran through my veins. It felt as though I wore manacles of red-hot iron. Blackness was creeping at the edges of my vision, and I heard a cry. The voice was familiar, but so distant I couldn't place it… the darkness was rising, up to my chest like cold ocean water. I closed my eyes as it rose to my throat, and then opened them again at the feel of hands on my shoulders. Twin slightly blurred circles of electric blue. Eyes. Sora's eyes. Then the darkness rose like the tide, and I slipped under without even a ripple.

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Ok, sorry I took so long to update. Life's a bitch. (and then you die!) I hope I made up for it with the length, nearly twice as long as normal. This chapter took ages to write, and even longer to type. The reviews—are probably what are keeping me going at this point. This is officially the longest writing project I have ever done, at nearly twenty thousand words without the author's notes. Sorry about the long wait, sorry about the cliffy, the next one should be faster.

Dyslexic Angel


	13. In the warm breeze

Sora's PoV

Riku spoke with Kairi again. I heard them. They were right by the library, and the window was open a crack. Riku sounded worried for me. I hadn't expected that. I thought he hated me. That made it so much simpler. Today I was too tired to deal with it. Thoughts trickled through my exhaustion-fogged brain like a penny sinking in a jar of molasses. I had a chance. I needed to talk to him. I wondered what it was I needed to say, but my mind refused to answer.

I sleepwalked through school, until I snagged a nap at lunch. I woke feeling very much better just in time to get to class. A new resolution had formed while I slept. I dared not question and let it slip. I skipped art and waited outside Riku's class. I didn't dare lose sight of him. He walked out just after the bell, eyes glazed, and his mind clearly elsewhere. I smiled bitterly. He really was lovely. I had brought this on myself. Riku walked quickly, his eyes still empty, but not towards his house. Not towards anything, save the Burned Sector. I followed curiosity and a bit of cowardice keeping me a block or so behind. It didn't seem to matter; his gaze was glassy, and he didn't seem to notice anything. We hit sand, and he turned, walking down the beach. I was so far behind, I almost didn't see when he slipped into a cave in the dark cliffs to my left. I padded carefully in behind him, and hid in a crevice between two boulders, barely four feet from an odd wooden box against the back wall. Sunlight streamed in from a hole the size of a grapefruit above my head, and lit the cave dimly.

Light glinted on polished silver as Riku pulled a knife out of the wooden box. It was as long as my forearm, sheathed in black leather, with a hilt fashioned in the shape of a silver dragon. The eyes were made of polished amber, and looked eerily alive. He laid it gently on the wooden box, then removed the bands he always wore on his right arm. He slid all three off in one motion, and I couldn't restrain a gasp of shock. The inside of Riku's arm was crusted with scars, white and pink lines making a mesh over his arm. The most recent stood out clearly—a long, ugly ridge that showed clear sign of old stitches ran, raw and red, from his elbow to his wrist.

He just sat there for a moment, tracing the scars, till he slid the knife from its sheath with a threatening _shing_. Gripping the knife with both hands, he laid the point of the blade at the base of his throat, indenting the skin but not drawing blood. I choked, and sat frozen, un_able_ to move. He pressed harder, and a bead of blood drew a crimson line to his collar. I could only watch, held still by shock and horror, as he took a deep breath… and dropped the blade. His hands were shaking. He began to laugh, a bitter, harsh sound with no humor at all to it, as tears tracked down his face.

Then… he stopped. His face was a neutral mask, as he drew several things out of the box, and then washed his face in a pool by the entrance. He walked back into my view… brushing his hair? As I watched, he took a little oil from a tiny glass bottle, and then put that in his hair. The scent drifted over, a sharp, spicy smell that I recognized as sandalwood. He made some strange marks in the wood of the box with the knife—it looked like an uneven circle. Then he lit another stick of incense, and I wrinkled my nose as the smell reached me. It was a harsh, almost metallic smell that seemed like a bad omen. He knelt before the box. Before I knew what he was doing, he gripped the knife between his knees—and slashed his wrists along the blade. I cried out, and ran to him, but too late. God, too late. Blood poured from his wrists, yet he smiled. I was sure that smile would haunt me till I died. He closed his eyes, and I grabbed his hands, trying to stop the _blood_. He opened his eyes again, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of startled recognition before he collapsed bonelessly onto me. I was scrambling in the box, looking for anything I could use to stop the bleeding. Finally, my hand hit gauze bandage. I wrapped it tightly around his arms, and slowly, the flow slowed and stopped. There was so much blood on the sand. Would he be all right? Tifa. Tifa was a doctor. She could help him. She was closer than a hospital, and the hospital would ask questions. There was only one hospital in Destiny Islands, and they wouldn't treat a kid without a guardian. I wrapped his arms around my neck and picked him up. He seemed too light. I _ran_. Thankfully, we were already in the Burnt Sector.

I stumbled down the stairs into base, panting, and saw Tifa and Alex staring at me. I was covered in blood, mostly his, but a bit of mine where half-healed cuts had reopened. I can only guess I fainted, then; I came to at a prick in my arm and twitched, then heard a woman's voice telling me to hold still, because Riku needed blood and mine happened to be handy. Then my mind blurred as I passed out again.

This time I awakened on a blanked pallet beside the couch. I was dizzy, and my brain didn't seem to be working right. I had been worried... about… Riku? Why? I shot bolt upright as I remembered, and looked around quickly. A bit of silver caught my eye. Riku was sleeping on the couch, snoring slightly. I sighed, and relaxed. Thank god. I lay back down. Clearly, I couldn't just leave Riku alone. He was hurting. It wasn't worth a moment's thought if I _should_ help; of course I would. Riku himself brought me back to earth. He stirred, and moaned softly. He opened his eyes slowly, revealing a sliver of dark beryl.

"Sora?" Riku said softly. "Why aren't I dead?" His voice was sleep-slurred, and puzzled in a childish way. I found myself groping for an answer.

"I… I found you. I couldn't just let you die." His eyes widened, and his next words were very controlled. As though he were trying to keep out hope.

"You could have. No one forced you. I thought you hated me."

"God, love. Never." The answer was torn from me before I could censor it. He flinched.

"What?" the words were raw. "You mean you've forgiven me… _the whole time?_" I answered softly, but no less intensely.

"I know of nothing to forgive you for." Riku struggled, and managed to sit up, drops of crystal sliding down his cheeks. I rose, and sat beside him. I put my arm around his waist and hugged him to me; he not only allowed it, but hugged me back, laying his head on my shoulder while he cried. Finally the tears slowed, and then stopped. He lay against me, and I leaned against him, holding each other up. Eventually, I moved, pacing a hand under his face and tilting his head so I could see his closed eyes. I kissed the tears, my lips passing over his closed eyes, before brushing them against his in a chaste kiss.

"I'm sorry for making you doubt me." My voice was a husky whisper. I owed him that apology.

"It wasn't your fault." Riku's reply was scarcely louder than mine. Then, "I'm sorry for doubting you." I could barely hear him.

"It wasn't your fault." I echoed, with a ghost of a smile. "Let's forget it." His voice was unexpectedly mature.

"Not forget, no. All hardship is a lesson. Forgive, yes." All of a sudden, I chuckled.

"You stole that from a movie."

"Who, me?" he asked, mock innocence and dignity _dripping_ from the words. We both laughed.

"I forgive you if you forgive me."

"Deal." I laughed again. Not very romantic, but who the hell cared?

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As if Sora could really let him die. It's not exactly a _happy_ fic, but it isn't that dark. I marvel a bit at how many nice reviews I've gotten. It's hard to believe people actually like it that much. We're getting to the end of stuff I've written. Updates are likely to slow down in the near future, not that there are many left. I've written fourteen, I'm working on fifteen, and sixteen is the epilouge, so the show is nearly done. The end may be a little anti-climatic… Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to follow this fic this far. It means the world to me.

Dyslexic Angel


	14. You will cry

Riku's PoV

I woke, which was a surprise in itself. The band of pain around each wrist didn't let me forget what had happened. The memory of Sora's eyes, streaked with the darkness already eating at my vision presented itself to my mind. So. I found it hard to be too upset. It would be pleasant to know, though, why he had stopped me. Something in me that had been broken seemed to be fixed. The same broken piece that had been mended before by those very same eyes. I opened my own and tried to sit up. I fell back with a yelp as every muscle in my body protested the motion. Sora was looking at me from a pallet on the floor, his expression worried, and just a touch dizzy.

"Why aren't I dead?" I tried to demand it, but came out pathetic. Sora looked like he was thinking, and answered slowly.

"I… I couldn't just let you die." I felt emotion rise in a double helix up my spine, twin spirals of pleasure and pain. I had to know.

"I thought you hated me." He answered almost before I finished speaking, and the words rang clear and true in the suddenly very quiet silence.

"God, love, never." I flinched.

"What?" the word was torn from me. If he had forgiven me, _why hadn't he told me_? Why had he let me going around believing I had ruined the thing most precious to me? "You've forgiven me…_this whole time?_" My voice grew louder and higher with every word, until I was screaming the words. I managed to sit up, feeling something warm slide down my cheeks, tasting of salt where it met my lips. Sora's answer made me break down completely.

"I know of nothing to forgive." The words were soft, almost more to him than me. As though he were afraid I would shatter if he spoke. He came and sat beside me, and I _felt_ as fragile as spun glass. He just held me, while I leaned on him until the no more salted drops fell. When my tears stopped, Sora placed one hand under my chin. I closed my eyes as he tilted my head so I had to face him. I felt the light brush of his lips on my eyelids and cheeks, kissing the tears away.

"I'm sorry for making you doubt me." His voice was a husky whisper, a dull thread of sound.

"It wasn't your fault." I answered, opening my eyes to look at him. If it was time for apologies, I surely owed some myself. "I'm sorry I doubted you." I sensed, rather than saw, his gentle smile.

"It wasn't your fault. Let's forget it." His blue eyes glittered in the dim light.

"Not forget, no. All hardship is a lesson. But forgive, yes." I had borrowed the line, but it seemed appropriate. He chuckled.

"You stole that from a movie." Sora accused.

"Who me?" I asked, projecting innocence for all I was worth. It didn't work.

"I forgive you if you forgive me."

"Deal." He laughed, and I smiled. It was hardly a scene out of one of my gooey romance novels, but it seemed _right,_ somehow. I couldn't really see Sora making sticky love speeches any more than I could see myself doing it. I pressed closer to him. Things were still a bit raw between us, but time would fix that. I kissed him, lightly, trying to re-learn the feel of his lips. I felt him respond, and when we broke apart, gasping for breath, he wasn't the only one smiling.

"You know…" he began, and the banging of the door cut him off. Foot steps pounded on the stairs, then Alex burst through the door, panting.

"Tifa." He gasped. "Trev --- bastard—Tifa!" I looked at Sora. For a moment he seemed as puzzled by Alex's gasped message as I was, then his eyes narrowed and I flinched back from the anger in his gaze. I had never seen Sora this angry.

"Does someone want to tell me what's going on?" I asked, looking at Sora.

"Trevor. The bastard took Tifa," Sora spat. My puzzlement must have shown, because an odd mixture of intense fury and impish amusement flicked across his features. "Tifa is Alex's girlfriend." My cheeks felt like they were going to catch fire. I could hear Alex spluttering in the corner, but he didn't deny it, either. "Anyway, Trevor is a slimy bastard. I don't know what he'll do to her if we don't go save her." Sora looked grim. 'If he snatched her off our ground, he's going to be watching for us." He pulled something silver out of a drawer, and said in a near whisper, "Call them in." Alex took the shiny thing, which turned out to be a cell phone. Alex moved over into the corner and began to talk softly into the phone. I looked helplessly at Sora. I hadn't understood more than half of that—my mind was still fogged, and my head pounded – but it didn't take a genius to figure out that Sora was going to fight. Well, if he was going to get into trouble, I was coming along.

I swung my feet over the edge of the couch, wincing at the pain in stiff muscles. Not too bad. I sat up, waiting a minute for the blue sparks to fade from my vision. It was a long moment, but finally the darkness receded, and I was able to look around. The light coming in the dirty windows was slanted with afternoon, but several oil lamps were scattered around the room and lit. Time to try something really hard. Sora had moved over to talk to Alex. I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled. Waves of black and purple ran across my eyes, shot with blue and green. My heartbeat was very loud, and I could hear a noise like the sea in my ears. I sat down quickly. This could be a problem. I pushed myself up again. The rushing was softer. I wobbled slightly. Time seemed to stretch, oddly, and my heart was getting very loud. The rushing sounded like waves; louder and softer by turns. I swayed, and heard voices, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. A deep rumble, followed by a higher voice… I felt arms around me and collapsed willingly. After a nameless time, the swirls began to recede, and Sora came into a sort of focus. The rushing and my heartbeat faded back to normal.

"Are you alright now?" I started to nod, then thought better of it.

"I'm okay." My voice sounded weak even to my own ears. I sucked in a breath to steady myself, and let it out slowly. "Sora?" my eyes flicked up to meet those amazing impossible eyes. I swallowed, and when I found my voice, it was harsh with emotion. "Make sure you come back in one piece. Just… come back. If you die I'll never forgive you." I hugged him hard, feeling tears prick my eyes again. He kissed me, and his reply was just as harsh.

"I will. I promise. He kissed me gently, tenderly. Then I lay back on the couch as Sora rose. I watched through slitted eyes, my mind oddly airy. The thoughts floated like feathers. People came in, people whose names I didn't know. Their voices blended together into a tapestry of sound. Sora was strapping a wooden sword over one shoulder, while ales polished a pair of wicked-looking daggers. A black haired girl chatted amiably with a moody blond boy. She wore a brace of shuriken, and he had a large sword strapped to his back. A brunet leaned against one wall, the weapon at his side a cross between a gun and a sword. Their voices were becoming more and more distorted, and I realized I was falling asleep. My eyes drifted shut on that thought, drawing the curtain on the world.

Sora's PoV

Risking your life is easy to do when you have nothing to lose. It was much harder to clasp the sword belt, knowing how sad Riku would be if I came back messed up, or worse. I didn't want him to be sad. But most of all, now _I_ wanted to live, to have time to spend with him. My hands were shaking. I pushed thoughts of Riku to the back of my mind. Distractions were risky at best. Yuffie arrived moments after Alex hung up with cloud. The normally hyper ninja was solemn, though a spark of humor still danced in her eyes as she donned a green headband to hold back her short black hair. Cloud arrived minutes later, trailed by an even-grumpier-than-usual Leon and a sober-looking Aerith. Leon looked less annoyed when he noticed Yuffie, and walked over to her instead of following Aerith. He kissed her lightly, and then took up a position propping up the wall. I felt like my jaw had just hit the floor; Alex and Aerith looked much the same. Only Cloud looked unsurprised. As Leon's best friend, there wasn't much he _didn't _know about the surly older boy. Alex finally managed to get his mouth shut, and explained the situation to our friends. Hectic planning took up another ten minutes or so. After that, my memory is patchy.

I scrambled to my feet, blinking to try to clear my focus. My ears were still ringing with the force of the blow, but I was pretty much undamaged. Chaos filled most of the large room, breaking in waves around the broken wood benches. On my left, Yuffie threw star after star into a knot of people by the door. On my right, Alex was slowly forcing a younger boy to his knees, locked blade-to-blade with a cheap plastic-handled box cutter. I blinked, and the knot near the door resolved into cloud and Leon going two on three with several boys who could have been Rigel's friends, from looks. I didn't see Aerith, but she was supposed to be locating Tifa. I didn't see Trevor, either. That was a problem.

I headed downstairs to the basement room from before. It was one of several dating back to when the church was first built, before destiny islands appeared on any map. I tried the next door. Nope, empty closet. Next door—locked. I put my ear to it, but the sounds of the fight upstairs mad it hard to be sure. I didn't hear anything. I slipped up to the last door, and jumped as something hit the door from the inside. It sounded big. I tried the door. Locked, no duh. I didn't have a pick, or much of anything else for that matter, so I headed back to the closet. Running a hand over the shelf got me a piece of stiff wire. Quickly I shaped it into a pick and slid it into the lock, as a blood-curdling _shriek_ rang through the hallway. It took me a long time to pick the lock; every thump broke my concentration. Eventually it came open, with a click audible even over the fight. The handle whined as I turned it slowly, and began to open the door…

I lay there on the floor, and, for the second time in as many minutes, tried to bring the world into focus. Something—some_one_—was lying on top of me, not moving. I groaned and closed my eyes again. _So_ not my day…

AN: Cliffy! Sorry. I've been a little busy. But now I'm on Christmas break, so all is peachy! I finally finished writing the draft. All that remains is to type it up. It took me a couple days to get over the shock of it. Anyway, I don't think I need to tell you: Review! Love you all,

Dyslexic Angel


	15. Again and again

Sora's PoV

I scrambled to my feet, pushing the body off me, and blinked to try and focus blurred eyes. My vision had gone fuzzy with what I suspected was a fairly bad concussion. The—person—slid to the floor, and I was able to see the other people in the room. Tifa stood directly in front of me, breathing hard, looking absolutely _furious_, one leather-gloved hand clenched before her in a fist. I looked at the guy that had knocked me over. Trevor Shane was unconscious, one side of his face already swelling.

I looked up again. Aerith stood behind Tifa, fingerprints purpling on her upper arm, looking scared. I looked back at Tifa, questioningly. She lowered her fist and smiled sweetly, the picture of innocence. I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. She turned to Aerith and began to help her towards the door. The younger girl was shaking, acting shocky. She spat, over and over, as though trying to get something out of her mouth. Tifa interpreted my look of utter bafflement.

"Trevor tried to kiss her. She bit him." I looked at her, trying to frame a question.

She spared me the trouble. "I hit him. I was just that mad, you know? I didn't know I could do that much damage." I just shook my head. Trevor wouldn't be getting up any time soon. I helped Aerith back up to the stairs, and then held a hand for them to wait. Sneaking up the stairs, I opened the door and peered out. The fight was over; I could see Alex lying on one of the wooden church benches, cleaning his knives with what looked like someone's t-shirt. Then waving to the girls, I pushed the door all the way open. Alex looked up, and sheathed the clean knife with a snap. The other remained in his hand. The walk was uneventful, though I leaned heavily on Alex. My steps were unsteady, weaving as I walked. I was never so glad to get back to base as I was then. Alex had to carry me down the stairs; by then I could barely walk strait, and the world was spinning lazily around me. Riku was the most welcome sight imaginable. He woke up as we came in, and the sparkle had returned to his stunning green eyes. I dimly remember Tifa asking me questions, but most of my attention was locked on those eyes. Alex set me down on an old beat up arm chair, and I sank into it gratefully. The world was still spinning, so I closed my eyes, just for a moment.

Riku's PoV

I watched as Alex carried Sora in. He looked awful, his electric eyes staring starkly out of the waxy mask of his face. But he was conscious. That alone was enough to make me dizzy with relief. I lay back and closed my eyes. He was safe. With Sora safe, all the possibilities opened up again. I sank back into the couch and closed my eyes.

I woke, much later, with the morning sun gently lighting the basement room… and the face of my love, lying on the blanket pallet on the floor beside me. He looked better, not nearly so pale, and sleep had softened the marks of pain. He looked like an angel, ethereal and calm. He stirred slightly, and I smiled. Electric blue eyes half-opened, still masked by long cinnamon lashes. Met my own green eyes. Warmth sang through me at the affection in those eyes. Neither of us wanted to break the moment. I moved first, swinging my legs over the side of the couch and kneeling beside him. He smiled, softly, and I kissed the smile. Neither of us spoke; the moment seemed too delicate to entrust to words. He broke the kiss, and I lay beside him, just reveling in each other's company. Sweet fire ran through me everywhere we touched, and his gaze sang like warm sun where it met mine. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer, and we both fell asleep again in the comfort of each other's arms.

I woke alone, what couldn't be much more than an hour later. Someone had pulled a blanket over me, and when I rolled over, paper crinkled. I grabbed it; it was a note.

_Sorry to leave, had something I needed to do._

_Sora_

I traced the loopy signature with one finger. The paper was rough and ragged along one edge, as though it had been torn from a sketch book. I folded it and tucked it into my pocket. Slowly, whimpering, I pushed myself up to my knees and stood. Every muscle in my body ached, still. Not as badly, but it wasn't better yet. I caught a glimpse of white gauze around my wrists, and raised my hands to look at them. Mother. If she saw these… there was no knowing what she would do, but it would definitely take me away from Sora. She would never believe that her 'help' would destroy me. Poetic irony, there. Something blue on the end table caught my eye. Two of my wristbands were on the table, a bit sandy, flecked slightly with blood. My backpack sat under the table. I smiled at the kind gesture, then frowned as realization hit. I had enough to cover the new bandages—but not nearly enough to mask the old scars. Part of me balked at going outside with them uncovered. Never, since I had gotten them, had I gone out with them truly bare. The skin was very pale from being constantly hidden. With Sora, I had barely noticed. He had his own scars. His were less visible, but no less real than the mind-wounds my arm reflected. I shrugged, and slid the bands on. I had to get home somehow. It took me a long moment to work up the will to open the door. Somehow, base felt like home, more so than anywhere had since my father's death. It was Sora's place. Finally, I walked outside into the warm noon sunlight. It seemed to melt away a shadow that had been brooding over me; for the first time in months, I felt healed, truly well. On the way home, people kept staring at me. Honestly, is it _that_ strange to see a guy skipping as he walked?

Sora's PoV

Riku came to school the next day looking tired. When I asked, he just smiled and said he'd been up half the night being lectured by his mother about _calling_ when he was at a friend's house. I smiled back. I understood. Shadows under his eyes weren't the only difference, though. Something else had changed, in the way he carried himself, the look in his eyes. It wasn't until lunch that I figured out the physical difference. No sweatbands. Well, okay, he had two hiding the bandages. But the rest of his right arm was clearly visible, scars and all. I smiled. It looked like something else had finally healed clean. Riku was sprawled out on his back, watching the clouds. He looked so innocent… the next time I looked over, his eyes were closed, and he was snoring softly. He smiled softly in his sleep, as I tucked a wayward strand of silver hair behind his ear. It was so soft… slowly, I bent down and kissed him lightly. I nearly jumped when he kissed me back. Green eyes slid open, not like gems or ocean water, but very purely Riku. Finally, we separated, both gasping for breath.

"Can I do that again?" Riku asked, laughing. I laughed back.

"I want you to. Again and again and again." Gazes turned heated, passionate. Kisses rougher, but no less sweet. Hands touched, and molten fire sang between us. Again and again and again.


	16. Epilouge: Fate for a criminal

Sora's PoV

That was nearly four years ago. Now Riku and I are in college, and as much together as ever. We share a three-room apartment, and he's teaching me to cook. It's funny—leave one thing in his kitchen, and he goes crazy, yet his books and instruments are all over the place… of course, since I claimed half the living room and the closet as a studio, maybe I shouldn't talk… but he likes to watch me paint. Watching him read is boring. I can think of dozens of things I'd rather be doing. Both of us have a lot of schoolwork. He's majoring in vocal music, but somehow talked his way into an extra year on scholarship, so he has time to take a bunch of other classes that have nothing to do with music. Somewhere along the line he managed to get scouted by a recording company, too. More and more often, when I turn on the radio, it's his voice I hear. It's his song on right now.

_Here we stand_

_In ravishing rain_

_Joy is like pain_

_It feels like a miracle._

_You can't turn back, you're in chains._

_Never again return from a cynical world._

_If you feel _

_You've loved me in vain_

_Why not re-live _

_You're guilty love affair?_

_In the warm breeze, you will cry._

_Again and again, that's fate for a criminal._

fin

Okay. Actually finishing this is a bit mind blowing. It's gone so much further than I expected… when I started, it was something to fill the five minutes until math class ended. I honestly never expected to finish it at all. It was sheer luck I posted chapter one—and it was your reviews that kept me working on it, your reviews that convinced me it was worth doing. And for that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Dyslexic Angel


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